Sworn Through Swords
by Platinumsabr
Summary: Youkai. Their very name betrays their arrogance. Demons, HA! They don't remember their pasts; where they came from, why they are where they are. When a human does, the world as they know it will be forever changed. Looking for strength? Well, JACKPOT!
1. Sworn Through Swords

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Rosario+Vampire, nor do I make any money from the writing of this story. Simple enough, ne? Just don't copy from this story and we're all good!

Again, for this one I took a few lines directly from the manga, but since I already claimed I don't own it, you all know I'm just using them.

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**Sworn Through Swords**

**.**

Ever wonder what dying felt like?

Before, back when he was nothing, back when he had been no one of consequence, had no claim to his name but mediocre grades and a life going nowhere fast, he could admit the thought did cross his mind once or twice. Was there really a bright light? Was Death really a skeleton in a black robe wielding a scythe, or was it perhaps more gentle, an angel in white that came to relieve the suffering of the fallen with a soothing touch that took them up to the waiting hands of the Creator? Theories abounded, but through it all Tsukune Aono had just smiled and rolled his eyes at the end of his thoughts. He was a teenager, how soon would he have to worry about death?

Sooner than he would have liked, apparently. He was sixteen, and for the past number of months he had been the gracious guest of a school that catered exclusively to those of things which went bump in the night. Monsters. This might not have been much cause for concern had he actually been one of them. No, he had the rather unique experience of being the only _human_ to receive his grades from an airheaded blonde teacher that had appendages entirely too furry and a strange addiction to sushi. That wasn't enough to warrant a fear of immediate death though, as much as the non-human element may have implied.

He had friends here, in this place called Youkai Academy. As strange as it may sound, he even thought he may have just found love there too. She was gorgeous, she was smart…and she also had a habit of sucking his blood every morning. She was a vampire. A monster amongst monsters, something feared above all others, and yet she had candy pink hair and a smile so cute it could have been criminal. If she hadn't just bit into his neck seconds after meeting him he wouldn't have believed her, but then he found out why she looked about as threatening as a kitten.

In folklore it was rather commonly known that a vampire was weak against holy symbols, crosses among them for natural reasons. Obviously what was lesser known was that they could also be used to seal a vampire's intense energy, and strange quirks could come about because of it. Like a second personality. What was hidden by the rosary around her neck was both so beautiful and so utterly terrifying that their first meeting would never fade from his memories regardless of how long he lived. Ironic, that, thinking of it now.

How could he not fall in love with her? He was a human, a pitifully average one at that, and she was this otherworldly beauty that deigned him worthy enough to be her friend. When he found out she had never had any friends before he was horrified. There was no reason for it! And the other self, the true vampiress, she was a _goddess_. She was haughty, aristocratic, more powerful than anything he had ever known was achievable, and quite possibly the loneliest person he had ever met.

Looking back on it now after all they had been through, it became so clear to him. Maybe it was his current circumstances. He wouldn't doubt it. Come to think of it, that was a running theme in their circle of friends. They were all outcasts or set apart in some special way that made them either too distant to befriend or too secluded to consider it. And yet somehow, they had all come together. Kurumu, Yukari, Gin, Mizore; friends. Weird friends, but friends, and the foundation of the Newspaper Club. They had only known Ruby for a short while, but he for one considered her a friend too.

They had been through so much together, so many death-defying situations that made him wonder just when his luck would run out. Moka had pulled him back from Death's grip more times than he cared to consider, making the 'death-defying' part of those mentioned situations all the more literal. Her solution to that problem left a bit to be desired however. By injecting him with her blood, the source of a vampire's unearthly power, he had been forcibly torn from the jaws of the abyss and empowered at the same time. She knew about the possible repercussions, yet as it happened again and again, it was either that or let him die. Not only did he not want to, she didn't want him to either.

He could have laughed. Really, when it was all boiled down he _deserved_ to die. He was an idiot, a coward, a feeble little human that was all but completely defenseless against a monster of any kind, but he just kept on coming back. He had run away once, from Saizou way back when, but even then he had come back to get his clock cleaned. He had more scars than some war veterans and he was only sixteen years old! But…he couldn't leave them, he would never leave them.

Kurumu: the busty, blue-haired bombshell that came for them no matter what threatened them, be it man-eating plants or deranged law enforcement officers. Yukari: the genius prepubescent witch that had proclaimed her love for not only Moka, but him as well. Gin: the perverted, super-speeding werewolf that looked out for his friends no matter how stupid he thought they were being. Mizore: the stealthy, misunderstood Snow Woman that only wanted to find people that could identify with her. Moka. Inner or Outer, green-eyed or red-eyed, Moka was Moka, and he would never let her down, not even if she told him he was unnecessary to her, not as long as he still drew breath.

Which might not be for too much longer, actually. Tsukune Aono no longer had to wonder what dying felt like, for he was sure it couldn't be as bad as what he was going through. He hurt, so very, very much. Throughout the day, each step felt like he was walking on coals, each inhalation felt like he was swallowing broken glass. Every cell in his body felt like it was being ripped apart in the most tortuous way imaginable, but he would protect her. He would save her.

His flesh may be frail, but he had the soul of a warrior. That was the only explanation.

She had tried yelling, tried telling him how perilously balanced his existence was right then, and again, he could have laughed. Did she think he didn't know that? His body was his own, and it felt like it was breaking. So what if he was dying, hadn't he shown her that nothing would be enough to tear him away from her side? That didn't matter, it would never matter as long as her life was in danger. She really should have realized that by now.

So there he stood, adding to his multitude of pains as he felt his arm and shoulder-blade fracture in a dozen different places as he withstood the attack of Midou's monstrous arm in her place. He was already bleeding mortally from the large shard of stone lodged in his back, so what was a few fragmented bones to a dead man? Moka was still weak, suffering under the onslaught of water the sprinklers were raining down on her, so as long as he could still move he was going to be her shield. Her cry of his name would have made him smile had the darkness around his eyes not started closing in. The lack of pressure on his arm made him guess Midou had jumped back, maybe in surprise, maybe in fear, and suddenly his legs wouldn't support him anymore. He felt himself fall, but arms caught him before his head cracked against the cratered earth.

_**"…Why? Why'd you come here, Tsukune…! Even though I told you many times you weren't needed…even so…why…?"**_

_Why?_ he thought wryly. _Like you'd get rid of me that easily._ He was a male in the height of puberty, on any other person he would have been at least half controlled by his hormones at all times, and Moka was rapidly becoming a very attractive woman, more so than she already was. That would have been on anyone else. For him, it was a simple equation. She _did_ need him, so he was there. That was all there was to it. But he was no good to her right now, and that above all needed to be changed.

"Moka-san…" he whispered, for that was all he could do. His chest hurt; every expansion to breathe was agony to his battered body. It felt like he was leaking inside, and as he coughed up blood he realized that one of his lungs must have been punctured. He wouldn't let it stop him. Taking another breath of pure pain, he went on. "Give me your blood, Moka-san." It seemed staring Death in the face was giving him more courage than normal. To ask this of her was a terrible risk, both to himself and to her usual temper. If it had been any other circumstance she would have probably caved his head in herself for such a bold order.

_**"What…"**_

"I was frustrated…when Moka-san said that 'this is none of your concern'. To me, the current Moka-san, as well as the outer Moka-san, are both important to me…" More important than she would ever know. "That's why I…wanted power to protect Moka-san."

With power, she would have never ended up in this situation. With power, he could have saved her without being such a burden on her instead. With power, she might begin to respect him as much as he respected her. As he stared at her with his unseeing eyes, he knew the appeal had shaken her.

_**"What are you saying! I said it already, it's really dangerous! If I inject my blood into you right now…forget your wounds not healing, you'll certainly die…!"**_

He allowed himself a chuckle in the confines of his mind. She made it seem like there was a chance that _wouldn't_ happen if she didn't. A wracking cough hit him unaware and more precious blood left his body even as it filled his lungs. _So this is what dying feels like,_ he thought mildly. _It's more…peaceful, than I imagined._ Though the situation was anything but, right then there was only the two of them, both weak, but the difference between them was that one was willing to give everything to ensure the other survived, even if they didn't.

_**"Tsukune!"**_ she shouted in alarm as his hacking coughs shook him in her arms. _**"This should be clear to you, right…? If you remain in this academy with this frail body of yours…" **_Grief overcame her, and anger ended up mixing with despair as she yelled, _**"THAT'S WHY I TOLD YOU THAT YOU WEREN'T NEEDED! HURRY…GO BACK TO THE HUMAN WORLD!"**_

And as if from a dream as his world continued to darken, he heard her last despondent whisper.

_**"I didn't want you to die, that's why I pushed you away…"**_

As the darkness encroached on the last of his awareness, he managed the barest twitch of a smile.

_I know, and that's why I would do anything, _anything_, to protect you._

The soul of the warrior within him _burned_.

…

Light.

Well, that was unexpected. Light was everywhere, so bright the place he was in had been dyed a blinding white. As far as the afterlife went, he supposed it was alright. A bit cliché maybe, but he didn't hurt here, not physically at any rate. Cultured, quiet laughter sounded to his side, and he spun around instantly, ready to fight if need be. The second he did that he scowled bitterly. Yeah, he would fight, and just like before, he would be nothing without her, nothing but a burden. Then, like before, he would die.

The man who stood before him though, looked like everything he could ever aspire to be. His poise was so refined and masculine he felt inadequate just by being in his presence, which was rather like what he felt like by Moka. Pale skin was set upon a frighteningly handsome face, his lips pressed into a sardonically amused smirk. White hair, so like Moka's, had been swept backwards in a way that left it in layers of lengthening spikes, yet the gaze fixed on him was not red, it was a brilliant, ice blue. Even his clothes screamed of nobility; the oriental, sapphire long-coat, the darker, armor-like vest and aristocratic scarf tucked perfectly into its collar. Even his matching pants and knee-high brown leather boots made him look elegant in the most dangerous of ways. He looked cold, but at the same time there was gentleness there, a kindness buried deep.

But why, why did this man remind him so much of himself?

"Can you hear it, the cry of a soul?" he asked piercingly. The words came from the man's mouth, but Tsukune could hear it from the air, from all around him, and from the deepest depths of the darkest parts of his being. Then he added, "What is your soul saying?"

Tsukune made to answer, then stopped. He might not be the best student in school, but something felt _off_, for lack of a better word. That question was one he had asked himself more times than he could count. Why did he keep going back to situations he had no place in? Why did he try when he was nothing more than a feeble human? Why was he willing to fight when everything seemed so hopeless? Because he had the soul of a warrior. And now his soul was asking the question back. It was easy enough to find out.

He smiled grimly. "What's yours saying?"

The figure returned it and answered, "Power. I want more…power."

"Wait, I know how this one ends: 'I'll take that too then'!" a new voice quipped, and from the stark whiteness of the surroundings stepped a man that looked much like the other one. His features were softer, his white hair dangled freely, and his smile was much warmer though filled with biting sarcasm. His clothes were similar as well, even if characterized by denim and bearing a lot more red. All in all, the newcomer simply looked much more relaxed, but for all their similarities, they couldn't be more different.

"But I need it!" Tsukune snapped. "If I had more power…"

Both of the strange men's expressions softened, and while hardly noticeable on the first, he said, "Might controls everything, and without strength you cannot protect anything, let alone yourself."

They might as well have been daggers plunged directly into his chest, and the young teen fought the tears boiling in his eyes. "…Yes."

The elegant man started pacing purposefully, never taking his fierce stare from the boy in front of him. "You are in an unusual position. In my life I was half devil, born from the Legendary Dark Knight and a human woman."

The other took point. "And in my life I was a human that gained some of the power of this devil, thanks to his soul and sword. We were both strong, arrogant, and focused, but I managed to save the one most important to me…"

"…Whereas I had failed," the noble completed. "Fate seems to be making up its debt to me, as each time I'm reborn I gain the chance to succeed where before I had not. I bore the blood of the greatest devil Hell had ever seen, yet I was part human, and I resented that, for I felt it made me weak when I had needed to be strong."

"And I was human before my trigger, but it was the strength I drew from that humanity that gave me the power to succeed," the denim-clad male put in.

"But you," the first said towards Tsukune, his face set in a mask of consideration, "you are a human that has been fed the blood of one of the last remaining true devils, and a powerful one at that. That is what allowed this. She never suspected your soul was closer to a devil's than a man's. You are closer to my goal than I ever was, and you don't even know it. The irony would kill me if I weren't already dead."

"So now you need to think," the second started as the white of the background slowly shrunk away. When it was gone, Tsukune saw they were standing over the Earth, but not just any area of the Earth, they were standing over the last scene he could remember. Moka, barely conscious and in water-induced anguish, had her fangs sunk into his neck while the other Outcast Ayashi watched, but it was frozen in time, unmoving. "What would you give, what drives you to get this power?"

Tsukune shook in impotent rage as water streaked down his cheeks. "Anything," he rasped weakly. "I would give anything. I don't care if I become a Youkai…_anything_…to protect her."

The strangers shared a grim nod, but still the aristocrat scoffed. "Youkai. Pitiful creatures, fallbacks from mighty devils cut off from Hell when my brother sealed it away for the last time. So few remain that could boast the power of even the weakest of Hell's Generals! Those that were trapped here now hold hardly any of the strength of their ancestors, diluted over the ages by war, weakened breeding, and sheer lack of effort. Show them. Show them the power of a true _devil_. Find Yamato! Retake the Throne!"

In an instant the other young man was in front of him, lifting him clear off the ground with surprising strength. "_Always_ remember what you made this decision for! Her blood is nothing next to the strength of your soul! Take it! Overcome it! _Now what do you want?_"

"Power!" Tsukune shouted unwittingly.

"_What would you give?_"

"Anything!"

"_For what?"_

"For her!" he cried. It was the second time he had said it, but then and only then did he seem to actually grasp what he was saying, and the tension drained out of him as he realized the full implications. Hanging limp in the commoner's grip, he knew. "For her. I would do anything…to protect her."

The man smiled, one lacking sarcasm or any other negative emotion as he dropped him to his feet. "And _that_ is what will make you strong. Remember, the Legendary Dark Knight Sparda was a full-fledged demon, but he had a human heart, a heart that could love another person. Hold on to that. I did. You'll never lose yourself if you do, no matter what your choices bring. My name was Nero."

"And mine Vergil," the first added, not unkindly, but still hard. "So tell me, he who has inherited my will: _who_ are _you?_"

The question, the tone, the very feeling that shook like a tremor through his body told him this was far more than the simple query it seemed. He was being analyzed, judged, weighed and measured…and for one of the few times in his life he didn't want to be found wanting. The pressure was horrible, but finally he just smiled—almost serenely—straightened his back and squared his shoulders. In front of the two imposing men he probably looked like nothing but a posturing idiot, but he wouldn't back down here, not when there was so much at stake.

"M-My name…my name is Tsukune Aono," he replied, unsure at first, but by the end there was nothing but cold steel in his voice.

Another look passed between the duo, and eventually Nero snorted and started laughing. "Not bad, kid, not bad at all. You'll do just fine. You've got yourself one hell of a group of friends, trust in yourself a bit too and you're gonna be great!"

Vergil stepped forward. "And if it's power you want, what would you do to gain it?"

Tsukune smiled as he recalled Nero's opening words. "I'll do what I have to. I'll take it from you!"

Nero laughed again as Vergil's lips twitched.

"And so the pattern repeats. Very well. There are some…_things_ you will need to know."

With that, he then stepped _through_ him, disappearing into the void. The remaining man flipped him a two-fingered salute before doing the same, but his last words echoed in the strange realm.

"You do have the soul of a warrior, now _use it_."

…

Despair couldn't come close to what Moka was feeling as Tsukune lay unresponsive, _dying_, despite the blood she was pumping into him. He was going to die; he was going to die and it was all her fault. When she could give no longer, she slumped down, prepared to meet her end. He would die, but she would too, so at least she wouldn't have to live without him. She couldn't begin to imagine what _that_ pain would feel like. Now there was an interesting thought. Maybe the knowledge of impending doom had loosened her pride enough to see what she had never hoped to find underneath? Such a wonderful time to have such a world-shaking revelation.

Damn it all.

Then something broke her fall, something warm, safe, and _breathing_. She didn't dare hope, but to the horror of her brittle heart she could do nothing but, and just as she looked to see healthy flesh where before it had been sickly pale, stars exploded in front of her eyes as she was struck in the back of the head and she knew no more.

…

Words could not describe what the assorted Outcasts were thinking as they watched what should have been a dead man not only get to his feet, but silently knock out the severely weakened vampire he had previously extended nothing but protection to. It was as if their entire battle so far had suddenly been turned on its head and they had no idea what to do in response. Then they saw him reach back and tug out the sharp piece of rock that normally would have cemented his place among the dead, where in seconds not even a scratch remained. Their thoughts on the matter screeched to a halt right about then, while Midou scowled darkly. Tsukune's eyes snapped open, and then even the misshaped monster's breathing stilled.

They weren't red, as they had been, or even brown, as they should have been. Incandescent cerulean light seared from sapphire irises radiating an equal amount of disdain. They were hateful eyes, powerful eyes, and they were directed solely at them with such intensity that the bitter stench of urine began emanating from more than one place in the throng of onlookers.

Baleful blue sparks seemed to generate from his skin alone as he started walking decisively towards the progenitor of his whole day's problems, and it soon became very obvious that those sparks were not a sign of pain as they were with Moka, rather an indication of power. What was more disconcerting was none of them felt the telltale chills that came from being overwhelmed by another's Youki; their reaction was entirely instinctive. It wasn't Youki, it was a pressure, an ingrained existence that was just _there_ merely because _he_ was, and the students that fancied themselves important because of their group found their bodies screaming at them to _get away._

Midou was practically snarling with rage by the time Tsukune stood in front of him, infuriated by how he was responding to the small teen. "What the hell makes you think you're so hot you damn purebred?" he roared angrily as he drew back his huge fist and prepared to make the supposed vampire standing before him nothing but a stain on the ground. The Youki he was putting out was enough to cause his friends to shake, though not who he wanted. His scream was near shrill as he brought down the weapon of destruction, and Tsukune calmly raised his hand.

The earth buckled and shattered, the building around them groaned from the newest quake, but Tsukune Aono stood unharmed behind the massive appendage he was holding off.

"So," the freshman muttered quietly, "he was right."

Hellgates, Devil Arms, demons that truly lived up to their names—as residents of Hell, as in _Hell_ Hell—Yamato, a sword that could cut through the fabric of space itself, and the Dark Slayer style that had been forged with it; it all seemed so hard to believe. He had been a human, but force-fed the livelihood of a true devil. This had empowered him for a time, yet simultaneously destroyed the humanity it was saving. As the heir to the soul of a Sparda, his last cry brought about unintended consequences. Similar to Nero, he had drawn on his soul's power, but this time there were added variables that changed the outcome. A human sacrifice, demonic blood, and a devil's soul. Instead of his soul reaching through the ether for power it had once known, the blood of an actual devil resonated with that call and the death of a pure human made it even more potent.

The truth was he had died the moment Moka injected him with her blood. He had died with untainted intentions—virginal, as Vergil had so embarrassingly put it—already weakened by and filled with the lifeblood of devils. Those were heady ritualistic ingredients, and when the soul—a _Sparda_ soul, one of both demonic and human origins—within made that last gamble, he came out as the purest devil to be seen in the human realm for untold years. He would no longer be pushed around. Now to see what he could do, and repay Midou for the agony he had put Moka through.

The punch he delivered into Midou's stomach cracked ribs and made him spit blood and bile. Oh was it satisfying, but it wasn't enough, not enough for making Moka scream like she had when the water hit her, not ever enough for the blood she shed as she was shamelessly attacked during her weakness. Midou was scum, a disgrace to those who fought with honor. He was going to teach him a lesson he wouldn't soon forget.

The Outcast leader didn't stand a chance under Tsukune's onslaught. His form was full of openings to begin with; unable to rely on his strength to compensate in the face of a greater power, those openings were exploited to the fullest simply because Tsukune was so fast. The give of muscle and the crunch of bone beneath his fists made the new devil smile darkly.

"How does it feel?" Tsukune hissed as a punch sank into the untransformed half of Midou's face. "How does it feel to know that you're going to lose and there's nothing you can do about it? No more underhanded tricks, no more hostages, and no one to save you." Seeing as Midou couldn't answer for himself, the others flung themselves into the fray after recognizing that their leader really did need saving. Glowing blue eyes regarded them almost lazily. "Okay, let me put that a different way: no one _can_ save you."

To be seemingly without limits was potentially consuming, and admittedly he was enjoying himself far more than he would have normally. He blamed his new nature. He and his friends had been life's punching bag ever since he had started school, but now he was on the other end of things for a change, and the objects of his wrath deserved everything they got. He wasn't above abandoning Midou to avoid damage from the oncoming attacks, where he weaved through the brutes jumping at him with tightly restrained awe. They were all so _slow_. Well, he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. These…_creatures_ had the audacity to kidnap an innocent girl with every aim of injuring, if not outright killing, both her and who came to save her. They wouldn't be getting any mercy from him. Hell, that would be the _last_ thing they would get from him. He chuckled as he neatly sidestepped an oncoming strike from arms that were longer than they had any right to be, then just as neatly snapped their bones with a vicious double-handed hammer-punch. Actually, that was _all_ they would be getting from him: _Hell_.

Vergil's idea of what 'things' he needed to know were still jumbled in his head. The finer points of the Dark Slayer style for example, there was no way he was pulling off half of that stuff without some serious training, and Yamato, naturally. It had been an integral part of both Vergil and Nero, and now that he knew of its existence it felt like a piece of himself was missing. Finding it was a whole new can of worms, along with any of the other Devil Arms that might still be hanging around. The Summoned Swords Vergil favored would have been greatly appreciated in this situation, but as it was he knew he had about as much chance of conjuring the great sword Sparda out of thin air as he did the imitations of Force Edge, which was, of course, none. All he had going for him for now was significantly enhanced speed, strength, agility, and a healing capacity that a vampire would be jealous of, at least until he learned the finer points of directing his new power.

...When he thought of it that way, it really wasn't that bad.

The ground shook yet again as he smashed one of the latest combatants into a self-made crater, ducking almost absentmindedly under another attack from behind and planting his elbow into the wannabe gangster's gut. For all their proclamations that mixed monsters were just as good as the so-called 'purebreds', there only seemed to be a select few of them that had any real strength, otherwise they subscribed to the 'strength in numbers' line of thinking. Which was fine, he supposed, as long as they didn't bite off more than they could chew.

That was when he noticed some of the more intelligent members sneaking past the immediate warzone…over to where Moka still lay unconscious.

Those sparks which had occasionally been dancing over his bloodied clothes increased tenfold.

He wasn't human, not completely, not from what Vergil had told him. Did that bother him? No, he had made the choice willingly. Devil or Vampire, he wouldn't have cared. He had the power to protect his friends, he would never stop being Tsukune Aono. He was a devil masquerading as a human, just as Sparda had so long ago, but with more human elements. Still, he didn't Trigger like Vergil and his twin, he simply assumed his true form. They wanted to play dirty? So would he.

To those trying desperately to regain the upper hand, keeping one eye on their destination and one on the massacre taking place, they knew something had gone terribly wrong when the forming dog-pile was blasted back like a grenade had gone off in the center. They soon found themselves wishing that had been the case.

What was standing amongst them was unlike anything they had ever seen. It's pale, ridged blue skin glowed by inner light, covered in strategic places by bony crimson armor that seemed as much a part of it as the skin itself. Lines of orange marked the scarlet carapace as if showing where individual growths met and sealed to create it, and while its—his?—right hand was empty, its left arm had a strange curved offshoot that extended from its wrist like a solid wing, or perhaps a shield. They never would have guessed scabbard. It's face was oddly familiar, the blue skin smooth unlike the rest, surrounding cheeks inscribed with golden streaks trailing from the gilded backdrop of its intense indigo eyes, and framed by hair that had hardened into the same dark red armor and scorched by identical orange highlights, while still being clear as to what it was.

It was beautiful in a sense similar to an explosion: amazing from afar, but destructive up close. Whatever it was, it put out an impression of imminent ruin stronger than Tsukune ever did. Then it growled, and they realized that wasn't the case, for what they thought was an 'it' was in fact a 'he', and that 'he' was Tsukune Aono.

**"Get away from her!"**

A ghostly hand stretched from his outstretched arm and grabbed the nearest monster from over twenty feet away, dragging him back into a bone-shattering blow that crumpled him like paper. From there it only escalated, turning into outright slaughter from the mismatch it had been. Bodies were thrown without discretion, oftentimes right into others, with an ease frightening to behold. Tsukune was grossly lacking in skill, hardly doing much more than inflicting as much damage as he could while trying to avoid taking any, but he was succeeding solely because he was their better in every way. He had to give them credit for trying; they kept on coming at him no matter how many were taken out of the fight, and he kept making sure they would need to be hospitalized. He dodged, spun, kicked, and punched as the situation called for, using his enemies as much as his body, littering the drenched ground with moaning people and turning puddles red with their blood.

After what seemed like so long but in reality was only a few short minutes, the entirety of the Outcast Ayashi that had been with Midou were decimated. The armor-clad devil walked calmly through the aftermath as he tried to come to terms with what he saw in the water's reflection. He was who he was, even his form still looked like him in most ways, but now he had power, the strength he needed to survive and protect those important to him. No, he would never regret his decision. Changing back turned out to be as easy as a thought, and though soaked to the bone and more tired than he had ever been, he had one last thing to do.

Moka was laying exactly where he had left her, her body occasionally twitching from the shower of anguish she was now mercifully unaware of. Hurting her like that had been hard, but it had spared her more pain and kept her from seeing what he had done…and what he had become. He would have to show her eventually, but not right now. He didn't know where the water was coming from, so rather than search, he gingerly picked her up. She needed to see a doctor. Her healing abilities were well recorded but she had taken some hard blows, a few while water sucked the lion's share of her powers from her. Those were the ones he was afraid of, especially since he hadn't helped by knocking her out.

_She looks so unlike herself_, he thought as he cradled her in his arms and moved to leave the dilapidated building that had been meant to be their grave. Inner Moka was always strong, always proud. Now her creamy skin was pasty white, shivering in pain and still sparking sporadically from the water's effects. She looked frail, small, too much like the teenager she was rather than the immutable vampire she made herself out to be. She took too much on her slender shoulders, finally he could help rather than hinder her. Their friends would too. Even though Mizore was still trying to find her place with them, it would happen, and they would be stronger because of it.

And he would be there every step of the way.

A howl of mindless rage made him tense with dread, and on instinct alone he ducked down, tucked his precious cargo into his chest and Triggered. The blow to his back launched the air from his lungs and made him taste copper. The pain was intense, but at least nothing seemed broken. Gently lowering Moka to the ground, he spun on the ball of his foot to see Midou barely staying upright. Fury erupted inside him at yet another dirty tactic employed by the Outcasts, and an ephemeral hand wrapped around Midou like he was a child's toy, where Tsukune then slammed him into the hard dirt face first. He didn't move, though he was still breathing. That was all Tsukune was going to give him.

His anger exhausted, he changed back and picked her up again, just in time for the rest of their friends to come rushing out of the foliage, led by a near frantic Mizore Shirayuki. When he thought about it, her stalking habits had probably seen her not far away from the building he was led to right at the time he was led to it. After she had assessed the strength of what they were up against and realized by herself she would just be delaying the inevitable, she had done the smart thing and gone for reinforcements. Of course that had taken time, and the old structure was far away from the main schoolyard, not mentioning how long it would take to find the others, even in the ideal case where they were in one place, _and_ get back. Her eyes shone with relief when she saw him, and quickly darkened as the state of his clothes was taken in. With good reason, most of the blood on them _was_ his. Kurumu looked like she wanted to jump onto him but held herself back, and Yukari simply looked horrified at the conditions of her love-interests.

"You're okay?" the Snow Woman asked tersely, clearly on the lookout for threats.

"Been better. Just on my way to the hospital," he replied with tired amusement.

"Bu-bu-bu-bu…" Kurumu rambled nonsensically, pointing between his disheveled appearance and who he was carrying. "You look like you've been through a war! What happened?"

His gaze turned flinty. "I took care of it. Please, let's go. It'll help that she's out of the water, but Moka-san needs to be looked at."

"What about you?" Yukari cried, even as he began to walk away.

He offered her the best smile he could at the moment, though he was comforted more than he could say that they were all with him again, just in case. "It looks worse than it is."

Of all the things to happen next, a robed man flying out of the forest followed by an equally robed woman definitely wasn't expected; having that woman throw off those robes to reveal a friend they hadn't seen for weeks even more so. Yukari instantly threw herself at the older witch gleefully, and she patted the small girl on the back affectionately, but her eyes never left the two battle-torn students.

"Ruby-san! Why are you here?" the pint-sized genius inquired.

She hesitated, but only for a second. "The headmaster hired me as his assistant. He sensed something was wrong and we…well…"

"A bit late," Tsukune remarked dryly. He recognized the man from the school's opening assembly; he was indeed the headmaster of Youkai Academy, chairman of the school board and how many other titles, but after what he had just been through, Tsukune wasn't feeling very charitable anymore. Ruby flinched even though his glare wasn't directed at her, but the priestly man just stared back impassively. "I want every person in that deathtrap behind me _expelled_. They kidnapped Moka-san, chained her up, threatened her life to get me to come, then nearly killed both of us! They're a gang, they practically admitted it! They planned this entire thing, right down to the ins and outs of a vampire and where they could exploit it best! They. _Planned_. To. _Kill_. Us! If they're this bold, why haven't you done it before _now?_"

The chairman sighed. **"Because before now it's been an ideology more than anything, and if anyone was attacked, they were either too scared to tell who or the attackers had friends to alibi them out. It's also been impossible to find all the members. I take it the perpetrators are inside?"**

"What's left of them," the young man muttered, but said to the administrator, "Yes, and they'll need medical attention. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm on my way to get some too. If you need a witness or something, you know where to find me."

"Where's Moka's rosary?" Kurumu asked in confusion, and that stopped him.

"Somewhere in there," he said over his shoulder. "I'd rather not go back. I don't know where they turned the sprinklers on from, so you'll need to turn it off before you go in. Ruby-san, could I ask you to get someone to bring it to me after you're done here? I know you'll be busy because of this mess, but I'd appreciate it."

She nodded happily, and following a small bow in her direction, he walked away from the scene, his friends in tow. Together with her employer, they strode to the opening of the rundown building and stilled at the mayhem they encountered.

"Unreal…all this before we made it here," the witch murmured.

The headmaster just took in the scene thoughtfully.

Something had happened here, something big, and he had a feeling the forces at work in Youkai Academy, and the world, would never be the same because of it.

…

Moka Akashiya awoke with a start from a terrible nightmare, one spawned from her inner self's memories. Clutching her heaving chest as she gulped in air, she looked around frantically, wondering what had happened and where she was. The gown she was wearing, the white walls and the stale smell of antiseptic all led her to believe she was in the hospital annex of the school, but left no clue as to how she had gotten there.

_**I was…so weak…and there was water. Pain…Tsukune blocking Midou's…**_

Their breaths caught.

_TSUKUNE!_

A mumbled protest halted her attempts at movement, and who did she see when she looked down but the object of her thoughts. He was sitting in the chair beside her bed, but had fallen asleep on the pieces of unused mattress by her waist with his arms as his pillow. It was evident he hadn't left her side, as while he wasn't wearing his wrecked clothes anymore, he had only replaced them with some standard hospital scrubs, which was probably all he could get his hands on. He was safe. The rest of their friends occupied the remaining chairs of the room, and Moka felt her heart burst with warmth. They really did care for her.

Softly running her hand through his hair, she enjoyed the tingle that shot up her arm. He was alive, they both were, and Ura-chan seemed much more accepting of her feelings than she did before, which was a surprise. After stating confidently for so many months, even earlier that day, that it was only her—the outer self—that would miss him in any way, Inner had obviously had a change of heart. It was about time in her mind.

Something had happened, something big in their heart, and she knew nothing was going to be the same because of it.

Were it not so dark, she might have noticed the shadow he cast was no longer what she saw in front of her.

Something big _had_ happened, and as the young vampiress shut her eyes and returned to Morpheus' embrace, no nightmares plagued her, instead were dreams of a better future, one held by both parts of the woman. What would it be like, they wondered, if they were united in a cause, especially one of the heart?

They would soon find out, and what a journey it would be.

…

**Author's Notes:** Well, after the surprisingly underwhelming response to the latest chapter of Here In My Arms, I felt it was pretty clear I needed to just have some fun again, so I decided to write down another of the odd ideas that had been floating around in my head. Oddly enough I've got a whole plot thought out for this one if I get around to it, but again, it all depends on reader response.

As you can tell I've pushed back the timeline of the DMC games, but that's not very hard when you think about what the people in DMC4 were wearing. They looked like they were stuck in the middle ages, yet not, at the same time. So I took some creative license and here's what came out. It's going to be obviously AU, with more elements of the game mixed in in place of certain plot-points of the canonical version of R+V, but I think it definitely has potential.

Plus, I'm a huge shipper of competent!Tsukune and powerful!Tsukune, so any story I can make that includes that is fun to write.

So hey, if you got to this point, why not tell me what you think?


	2. Ultra Violet

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Rosario+Vampire or Devil May Cry, nor do I make any money from the writing of this story. Simple enough, ne? Just don't copy from this story and we're all good!

...

**Ultra Violet**

**.**

The truth of the matter was, it was not a good day to be an Outcast Ayashi.

Mako Yakumaru knew as much as she tried to go about her rounds in the hospital as best she could without destroying everything within her line of sight. To say there was a kink in their plans would be an understatement at this point; they were royally up the creek, without a paddle, and if that wasn't enough they were also taking on water fast. Midou was lower on the totem pole than she was, but he was a presence among the lower ranks of their organization that had quickly gained him a large following. While he might not have been officially recognized as such, he was basically the commanding officer of the rank-and-file. He had their respect and their fear, and they would follow him even if he didn't have the approval of the higher echelons.

What was worse, he _had_ had their approval, and that was why everything was so screwed up. The thing was, it should have worked. Midou was a wrecking ball of sheer destructive talent and an enforcer she knew they would be hard-pressed to replace, but he was _not_ stupid. He had a plan in place, and while simple, it was devastatingly effective. A location well out of the way of any wandering eyes or authority figures, a hostage to ensure silence of the act and the intended victim's arrival, terrain modified to his advantage, and even the largest contingent of backup he could gather just in case. Of course, they were probably there just for him to further establish his authority as the one who had defeated two high-powered purebreds, but they had to be taken into account.

Somehow, even with all of that planned out and executed, the end result was a very large number of their expendable members hospitalized and Midou, who was by no means fragile, in intensive care. And what did the other side have to show for it? One case of exhaustion and another in what was looking to be only an insignificant stay.

It was a slap in the face to their organization as a whole.

Something needed to done about them, and she had to get rid of Midou too. He would be difficult to replace, but not impossible, and he had disgraced them enough. She wanted him awake though, first. She wanted to see the terror in his eyes as his life bled from him, to know his last thoughts among the living were how badly he had failed them and how easily they had taken their retribution. There was only one better drug than holding that kind of power, and she would have _that_ when she showed his ghost how it _should_ have been done.

Unfortunately, she couldn't very well go around killing every single one of those involved, because frankly a death count that high would get a microscope turned on the situation, and possibly even outside investigators. That was the last thing their group needed. As it was, those hospitalized were already under scrutiny and pending expulsion, and while they could be replaced, it was hardly a recruitment endorsement. Word would spread around school like wildfire, as it always did, and others would be much more hesitant to join when they knew the administration was stepping up their game.

Thankfully the underlings knew nothing _worth_ killing them for, and the one thing they had all been taught was how to alibi themselves out of things with the rest of their cohorts as witnesses. However, that was pointless when there were two of their victims not cowed into submission, and in fact openly cooperating with the authorities. If they were silenced, there wouldn't be enough evidence to the contrary and the others should be able to get off with a slap to the wrist. That more than anything would strengthen their image of the organization, and there was nothing better than soldiers willing to do anything their superiors told them.

For that, Tsukune Aono and Moka Akashiya needed to die. Tsukune had already survived them twice, which was two times too many, and if Saizou was to be believed then Moka was a Vampire as well.

Vampires. The thought made her shudder with glee. Paragons of power, born to be the best there was. If they could claim to have taken down not one, but _two_...that would be an even greater feather in their cap than getting their subordinates free. If _she_ was the one to accomplish _both_ at the same time, surely she would be rewarded beyond measure. She knew exactly how she was going to do it too.

She couldn't wait to see the look on the invincible vampire's face as the vampiress he obviously loved tried to kill him. The confusion and heartbreak would be positively _orgasmic._

Squirming just at the thought, the young nurse went on her way.

So many lives to play with, so little time.

.

=I=======

.

When Moka awoke next, it was to the hushed conversation of Kurumu and Yukari playing cards on the bed across from hers. The sky outside the window was dark with thunderheads and occasionally rumbled true to their name, which explained why it was so dark, and to her surprise Tsukune was still sleeping quietly by her waist. That might not have been so unusual if the clock on the wall hadn't told her morning had long since passed. If he felt half as bad as she did it was probably for the best, but from his frown she could tell it wasn't a peaceful sleep. When she tried moving, her whole body ached, but that was to be expected after what she had been through. At least the larger injuries had healed for the most part.

A sudden chill made her shiver deep down to her bones. She wasn't fooling anyone, least of all herself. How close had she come to actually _dying_ that day? And Tsukune, wonderful, idiotically honorable Tsukune; her protector and best friend...how had he survived? Was it possible that their last gambit worked?

She looked down again, just to make sure he was still there, still breathing. Her fingers trembled as she reached for him, terrified that what she was seeing in front of her, what she had felt before, had been a dream all along. Her whole being sagged in relief when his heat traveled up her arm just as it had before, tingling the whole way. It also served to calm what was obviously afflicting him, because his face smoothed out as he sighed onto her skin. His pulse was strong and steady, an impossibility that was somehow reality. He should be dead, everything she had ever been taught _told her_ he should be dead. It was either death or...no, she refused to think of the alternative. If _that_ had happened she wouldn't have woken up at all, and she wouldn't have wanted to either. To be responsible for turning the kindest, most compassionate human she knew into a mindless engine of death and destruction...

Just the thought turned her stomach.

But she _had_ awakened, so now the only question on her mind was _how._

Be that as it may, her friends came first.

"Hi guys, what'd I miss?" she asked with a weak smile, as quietly as she could so she didn't disturb Tsukune. It wasn't hard with how dry her throat felt.

The mutters on the other bed stopped abruptly, and Moka would have soon found herself with an armful of crying witch had she not pointed down to remind the young magician that there was someone sleeping on the other side of her legs. Yukari was nonetheless delighted with the careful hug she received from over the edge of the bed, and though Kurumu considered the vampiress a love-rival, she was also a friend, and when friends ended up in the hospital they needed hugs. Moka knew they would never understand how much the gestures meant to her, but that was fine. She was content just knowing she had friends that cared enough about her wellbeing to stay with her.

"It was horrible ~desu!" Yukari cried, and quickly lowered her voice when she was reminded where they were again. "It was horrible," she repeated in a fearful whisper. "The stalker came to us saying you were in trouble and we tried to get there as fast as we could but when we did Tsukune-san was already carrying you out and you were so pale and there was blood everywhere and—"

"Breathe, Yukari-chan, _breathe_," Moka crooned softly as she steadied the genius' trembling hands with her own, and dilated eyes of deepest violet blinked a couple of times before the young girl took a shuddering breath in. Clearly it had been weighing on her mind for a while. "Everything's fine now, right? We're okay." _Somehow,_ she left unsaid.

Kurumu sniffed. "Neither of you _looked_ okay yesterday, Moka. 'Okay' people don't need the hospital! Guess where you are?"

She had the good grace to look down at that. "Well, we're better than we were, aren't we?" she tried sheepishly, and wilted under the succubus' stern glare.

Kurumu couldn't keep it up for long though, and slumped back onto the bed she had come from. "You gave us a real scare, alright? Your other half looked like death warmed over and she's..._her!_ Tsukune was soaked with so much blood the nurses wouldn't even let him change before they looked him over! He told us what had happened when Ruby-san came to get his statement and bring your rosary but God, we were just...we were just scared."

Moka smiled gently as she felt the consciousness within her rosary stir, apparently caught off-guard at being mentioned on par with her other half so casually. "I was too," she admitted. "The last thing I remember is Tsukune...he was..."

Dead. Nearly dead, cold as death, his breaths growing ever more shallow in her arms, asking her for his own damnation...and yet...and yet...

"...Moka?" the bluette prodded, and the vampiress clenched her eyes shut.

His face stared back at her, pain-ridden and yet peaceful, resigned and yet resolved.

Even in those last seconds of her recollection, by all rights what should have been the last seconds of his _life_, she had been the only thing on his mind.

Not even the heart of an S-Class Super Vampire could remain stoic so long. He had fought for her, bled for her, nearly _died_ for her, and not just once either. These were not things done lightly, especially for a human. They _meant_ something, and what that was had become clear to her the instant she thought her blood wasn't going to save him. If that wasn't love she didn't know what was.

Love. She...they...loved him. What a terrifying, exhilarating, feeling. Was that how he felt; a human in love with a vampire, knowing his best would never equal even her worst, but trying anyway because to do otherwise would make the greatest pain pale in comparison? Suddenly, the reason for him wanting her blood seemed so painfully obvious. If she had been in his position, she was sure she would have done the same. Even if she was reading too far into things and he didn't actually love them, now that they were safe in their own feelings they could make a united effort to get him to.

How unbelievably freeing.

"Are you sure you're all right?"

Yukari's question startled her out of the surprisingly pleasant turn her thoughts had taken, but when she looked at them and their worried expressions it all came rushing back. "F-Fine! I-I'm fine!" she declared hastily as she tried to wave off their concerns, and winced when her sore muscles protested the jerky movement.

"Yeah, we can see that," Kurumu deadpanned as she pushed the vampiress back to her pillow. "Now lay down and stop moving if you're still a bit tender. 'Course, anyone else would be worse off, and let me tell you, you freaked the docs right out once you were dry; 'don't think they've ever seen anyone heal that fast. They gave you a quick transfusion to help you out but that was it."

"And Tsukune?"

The succubus shrugged, but her gaze flicked over to where he was all the same. "That's the thing; he's...fine. He fell asleep almost as soon as he sat down after everything was over, but there's nothing wrong with him. Guess you got him your blood just in time, huh?"

Though she knew it was wrong, Moka nodded after only a brief moment of hesitation. She had hoped Tsukune would have told them how they had gotten out of that deathtrap, but apparently they knew just as much as she did. A small, selfish part of her was glad for it. If they knew it was her blood that had been hurting Tsukune, and moreover that _she_ knew it and did it anyway, even after explaining it to him, they would hate her. They would hate her, shun her, just like middle school all over again! She wouldn't be able to handle that, not again, not after finally making friends that liked her for who she was!

_Besides_, she rationalized, _I can't tell them what happened when I don't know either, right? After...I'll tell them after I ask Tsukune. There's no harm in that._

Ura-chan was silent, but she could tell in her heart the silver-haired girl didn't want to lose what they had either.

"...So, what happens now?"

"Not much, but now that you're awake Ruby-san will want to get your statement to go with Tsukune-san's," Yukari replied lightly, at least before she started grinning maliciously. "Then we can get all those nasty delinquents away from you forever ~desu! Hurt my threesome will they..." She trailed off into dark chuckles as she started mumbling things under her breath Moka really would rather not know.

"What she said, minus that last bit," Kurumu confirmed. "Just focus on getting better for now. Ruby-san will be around sometime."

It would be easier if she had any idea what they were talking about. "What...?"

"Oh, that's right! You don't know about that, do you? Well, just after we got to you, Ruby-san and the headmaster of the whole freaking academy himself showed up! Turns out she's been hired as his assistant or something, and from what she said he got some funky feeling that 'all was not right in his domain.'" When the others stared at her, she huffed. "Oh come on, he totally gives off that creepy, knows-way-too-much vibe! For cripes' sake the man is a Dark Lord and he dresses like a priest at a school for _monsters._" To the succubus' pleasure, no one had anything to say to that. Satisfied, she went on, "So Tsukune gives him this glare that makes me _shiver_ and tells him point-blank that he wants everyone who attacked the two of you expelled. Expelled! And he tore into him for not doing it before now too! If he wasn't carrying you I think he would have punched him!"

Moka looked down to the sleeping form next to her, his expression tight once more while his fingers twitched in response to whatever he was dreaming. "He...did that...?"

A spike of dread hit the budding illusionist, and despite herself she swallowed nervously. If Moka ever showed any sign of truly responding to Tsukune's affections...

"A-Anyway, seems like the administration has been waiting for this. It isn't the first time the Outcasts have attacked someone, but they always got off on a technicality. Threatening witnesses, if they learned anything from the Student Police, I'd bet," she spat, and shook her head in disgust. "It's times like this when I wonder _what_ the teachers here are doing half the time, then I remember what happened to the stalker-girl and I just...gah! She's creepy but that doesn't mean she deserved what happened to her, and by a teacher! We shouldn't be doing their jobs for them! First the safety commission, now this?"

When she thought about it, Moka was inclined to agree.

"It's probably because they expected fights. We're monsters, after all," a quiet voice interjected, and with no further preamble Mizore Shirayuki popped up from behind the bed—the bed Yukari and Kurumu were _sitting on_.

Their reactions were predictable, complete with yelps as they jumped from their seats, and Moka would have done the same if she hadn't been reclining. As it was, she jerked in place, accidentally slamming a hand down on Tsukune, which, again, had predictable results, though in an unpredicted manner.

The brunet youth shot to his feet in a wide crouch, his right hand moving to grab something he seemed to think his left was securing against his side with a cry of, "Mother, NO!"

More surprising than the response itself was that it had been said in perfectly accented _English_.

Standing up too quickly took its toll however, and his legs gave out as he fell back to his chair with a pitiful groan, cradling his head.

Inner Moka's brow furrowed. If she didn't know any better—and she _did,_ since she had a sister who dabbled quite seriously in the realm of weaponry—she would have thought that had been some sort of sword stance; and though Tsukune was trudging along admirably in Language Arts, he had never expressed any kind of proficiency in English before, especially not enough to make any lingering Japanese accent practically disappear.

More impossibilities, more confusion, and more questions to add to the mass she already had.

Just what in the _hell_ had happened the other day?

It seemed the other girls were more surprised by the outburst than what had been done during it, but that was probably because they lacked the knowledge to recognize it. At least, all but Yukari. "Wow, that was an impressive use of English ~desu!" And at Kurumu's incredulous gawk, she giggled guiltily. "Um, I mean: are you okay, Tsukune-san?"

The laugh they got from him was coarse and rough, haggard from sleep and altogether unfitting to the teen they had come to know over the many months since school had begun. When the one eye not covered by his hand glanced up at them, they were startled at how _anyone,_ let alone their kind, gentle friend, could carry so much in their eyes and show none of it on their face, but for a small, melancholy smirk.

"I've been better," he confessed in a rasp.

He and Vergil were more alike than he had ever suspected, and now more than ever was he able to appreciate why the Son of Sparda had imparted what he had.

The half-devil had lost his mother in the worst way imaginable and been powerless to stop it; hell, his own twin brother had thought _he_ had died too at the same time. He had failed, and to the mind of the young boy it was because he hadn't been strong enough, hadn't been enough _devil_ and too much _human_. Those thoughts had shaped that boy into the man he would become, a man whom became obsessed with gaining that strength to the exclusion of all else, and eventually lost everything, even his own sense of self. It was a path Tsukune knew could come very easily to him if anything similar happened to one of his friends.

But there was another who had given him his memories, one who had been old enough to see things for what they were when they happened to him. Nero's memories were filled with a songstress in white, an unsophisticated beauty with soft brown hair and eyes—_Kyrie,_ the images seemed to tell him_._ His own battle was fought with her in mind, his demonic might gained solely so he could protect her, but with that might he found he could no longer be so small-minded in his purpose. He had the strength, so he would protect her, and not just her, he would protect as many people as he could and send anyone or any_thing_ that threatened them straight back to Hell. No matter the hardship or the failures along the way, the choice had been made, so he would stick to it. He had never forgotten why he had made that choice, never doubted the strength his humanity gave him, and therein laid the difference.

Love was what started their journeys, but only the one that had accepted that love and where it came from succeeded in the end. Those journeys had lessons both men knew Tsukune needed to learn, and learn them he would.

In life, Vergil was a man that constantly toed the line between hero and villain, and while there was nothing he wouldn't disregard for more power, he had traits very much worthy of admiration. The half-devil was fearless in literally every sense that mattered, and by extension he was quiet and calm; his strength was easily matched by his intellect, and it took the Ruler of the Underworld himself to break the iron will his warrior's code was forged in. Even now, Tsukune could feel that calm sink deeper into him, slow his doubts long enough for him to figure out it _wasn't_ out of his reach. Yes, he lacked training, but he had all the _experience_ he needed to start it.

Ironically, the original successor of Vergil's spirit turned out to be more like his brother Dante. Nero was emotional, sardonic, and spoke his mind without a care. He shared in his predecessor's skill with a blade, however, and for all his recklessness was not the least bit unintelligent. He offered the pieces of life Vergil never could, that which included family, love, and actually _living_ outside of seeking more strength. In a way, Nero's was the more important of the two.

As he looked at the faces around him, all still worrying, he knew what he was going to do. He would never, ever let the women—the _people_ in his life come to harm. He would use what Nero and Vergil had given him to make himself into a man deserving of the soul he had inherited, and the friendships he had acquired. He owed them that much.

"I've been better, but I've been worse too," he amended as his sad smirk became a gentle smile.

The girls breathed a simultaneous sigh of relief. This they were more familiar with.

Kurumu needed no further encouragement to jump right over the bed separating them and straight into his lap for a hug long overdue. Normally Tsukune would have freaked out, not only because of her proximity but of his body's potential reaction to it. Instead, the calm he could only attribute to Vergil gave him enough time to feel the small tremors running through her as she held him, and with the insight Nero had shared he was able to realize it wasn't supposed to be taken as provocative. It helped that she wasn't pushing his face into her chest for once. So, he did something he had never done before: he hugged her back. Softly, just enough to let her feel him, he let her know he understood. The succubus very nearly began purring.

He kept one eye out for trouble though, since routine went that whenever any of them were in physical contact with him one of the others would break it up somehow. He made sure it was clear that would _not_ be tolerated this time.

Mizore dissolved the throwing knife she had formed with a guilty blush.

"Guess yesterday was too hectic for this, huh?" he stated without really expecting an answer, and Kurumu didn't trust her voice enough right then to give one. She was so happy that when he let go she didn't try to stop him, and chose to melt into the chair beside him with a content grin.

Not to be outdone, Yukari rushed over for a hug of her own and squealed with glee when he obliged her. Of course, on an intellectual level she knew he meant it as if she was a little sister, but damn it, she'd grow into her mind or die trying!

For Tsukune, the calm he felt wasn't nearly so artificial after the hugs from his friends, and his smile was that much easier to give when he slouched back into his chair. New bloodline or not, he was still tired, and that was only worsened by the way he had been awakened. A bed was definitely in order for next time though; sleeping on a chair just plain sucked.

Speaking of, his stomach wasn't the only one that decided to make its needs known, and Moka blushed at the unhappy gurgle of her midsection. She fiddled with her blanket as she tried—and failed—to look anywhere but her best friend, and though Tsukune knew what she wanted, he couldn't allow her to drink from him, not yet. It would instantly tell her he wasn't all he appeared to be anymore, and he wanted to hold off on that conversation for as long as he could; at least until he had gotten a chance to talk to her about it away from their friends. Moka deserved to know the truth...the others probably wouldn't take too well to some of the specifics, and he had no desire to shake _that_ hornet's nest if it could be avoided.

Now he just had to figure out what to do in the meantime.

It was a good thing he had already been given a temporary out.

Smoothly rising from his seat, Tsukune rolled his shoulders as he removed the uncomfortable cricks from his neck, and it was hard not to smile at just how _good_ he felt.

He had power now, and he was going to learn how to use it. Until then...

"So, anyone else hungry?"

.

=I=======

.

Something ravenous clawed at her belly the more she watched them, and _him_ especially. As one of the 'clean sweepers' of their organization, she wasn't often part of the school proper, but even she had heard of the growing 'harem' within the realm of Youkai Academy. It was a most unusual circumstance, considering the members. It wasn't unheard of for the most talented or beautiful to find themselves at odds with each other, but then again, she supposed it wasn't unheard of for them to form a group either. It only took a little observation to see that didn't necessarily mean they weren't _not_ at odds with each other, but the goal of that competition was...interesting to say the least.

At first glance, Tsukune Aono was no one important, but that was only at first. There was something about the way he carried himself, something about the way his eyes seemed to roam, almost lazily, over his surroundings, something that just didn't sit right with her. Whatever it was those girls saw in him, it was there all right, and she couldn't wait to watch it die.

Slowly.

Intimately.

At the hands of the one he loved most.

Not that the cafeteria food he was getting with his friends wouldn't do a good job of that all by itself, but sadly she had things to do before she could get to that. Besides, the best things came to those who waited.

...

In her room, Moka was of the opposite mindset. Tsukune and the others had left with the promise to return with food what seemed like hours ago already, but maybe that was just because she had never been so keen of his absence before. Feeling his skin chill, listening to his heart slow, his breathing still; she had been so sure she had lost him. The more she tried to remind herself that wasn't the case, the more she was reminded of when it almost was. Being bedridden and alone with her thoughts was a terrible thing, more so since even Ura-chan was being quiet, likely suffering from the same thing she was. What was taking them so long?

"Excuse me, Akashiya-san?"

She jerked, looking to the door in surprise. "Yes?"

The nurse smiled as she rearranged an unruly blonde lock away from her glasses. "Sorry to disturb you, I'm just here for the routine check in; since you're awake that means I'm just here to check your charts, see if you want anything, you know the drill," she replied easily. "I'll be sure to tell the doctor you're awake now too after I'm done, I'm sure you don't want to be in here any longer than you have to."

Moka nodded gratefully. "Thank you. If I never see one of these rooms again it'll be too soon; no offense."

The blonde laughed as she glanced over the monitor and intravenous drip by the vampiress' bedside. "None taken, I can assure you; I work here and it can get depressing some days. At least you got an interesting story out of it; not many can say their boyfriends have done what yours did. I swear, the gossip network around here just couldn't keep quiet about you two yesterday." She paused, taking the moment to dramatize herself appropriately as she theatrically simpered, "_Well_, you didn't hear it from me, but _I_ heard he carried you in here ordering them to look you over even though he was the one covered in blood! _Then_ they had to practically _pry_ him away from you to make sure _he_ was all right!"

Oh the look on her patient's face was _priceless,_ and she giggled despite herself.

"Relax, that's the kind of thing those girls live for. I may be blonde, but I'm not _that_ blonde, thank you," she tittered with a shake of her head, all exaggeration gone, and Moka laughed. "It is kinda romantic, really. To be honest, I'm surprised I missed him. Joking aside, what I did hear is that boyfriend of yours refused to even go back to his dorm for a change of clothes after he was done, and when visiting hours were over the poor night-watch supervisor didn't have it in her to wake him up and ask him to leave."

If it was possible for a rosary to blush, Moka was positive it was matching her face right then. "Tsuku...Tsukune isn't my boyfriend," she protested weakly, and only blushed harder when the bespectacled medic merely smirked knowingly and raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I might not be a geography major but even I know denial isn't just a river in Egypt."

Moka squirmed uneasily, but plastered on a hard look. "Are you almost done?"

The other woman had the gall to giggle again. "Touchy, aren't we? Okay, I'll let you off for now. Back to work then. Are you experiencing any pain, lingering stiffness, anything like that?"

"Yes, to all of the above," the vampiress replied with a wince as she tried shifting in place. "It's nothing time won't fix though." And it was why Vampires tried to avoid water whenever they could. Even out of the direct effects, like a sickness it could linger for days afterward if exposed enough. She wasn't about to let a random stranger know that, however, even if they were a trained professional.

Sure enough, the nurse frowned. "I'd heard about your regenerative capabilities, but it's still surprising to see the results for myself, knowing what you've been through. I can give you something for the pain, if you'd like."

Moka's irritated facade was replaced by genuine relief. "Really? I'd appreciate that."

The last time she had dealt with water was after she had jumped into the school's pool to save Tsukune from the swimming club, and she would have killed for a painkiller of any decent strength when she was sleeping it off. _Maybe being in the hospital isn't so bad after all,_ she conceded, at least in her own mind.

A small syringe filled with an even smaller amount of clear liquid was pulled from the nosy nurse's apron, and within seconds of it being injected into her intravenous tube, Moka visibly sagged into her bed. "Oh...wow. Thank you," she hummed enthusiastically.

It just went to show how much she knew about medicine. The dose had looked like nothing to her, but was it _ever_ effective. Even her brain felt tingly, which was rather nice actually. No more fretting over things already done with, no more thinking stupid things like what was taking her friends so long; Tsukune was just gone for some food, he'd be back. No more thinking, period.

She was blissfully thought-free, and perhaps just a _bit_ high.

"Not a problem, Akashiya-san. Are you feeling better?"

Moka nodded, then giggled as the room spun. "A lot," she responded sluggishly. "Thanks again, miss...?"

The blonde laughed as she made a notation on the clipboard she had pulled from Moka's bed. "You can call me Mako, Akashiya-san. Your chart says you're okayed for food, so if you want I can bring around something for you. You would have gotten lunch earlier had you been awake, but it would be easy to get for you again if you're _up_ for it."

A pink eyebrow quirked in her direction. "I'm drugged and even _I_ know that was a horrible pun."

She flushed, then pointed her pen at the vampiress imperiously. "And if you want to _keep_ being drugged you will never bring that up again," Mako mock-threatened, and true to form, her patient giggled once more.

"Aww. Fine, but only if you never tell me what it was you were going to try and make me eat. I've heard stories about hospital food!" Moka declared with a woozy grin, and her nurse rolled her eyes and smiled back. "My friends just went to the cafeteria, so I'll be good."

"Well then, I suggest you eat what they bring you and go back to sleep; let the drugs do their work. I'll be back with a doctor later on, but just in case I miss you, why don't you come see me before you leave? I'd like that, wouldn't you?" Like clockwork, Moka gave an all but drunken nod. "It was nice meeting you."

"Yoo...you too, Mako-san."

Mako smiled, the picture of innocent benevolence, even as her eyes glinted behind her glasses. Had she been in her right mind, Moka's vampiric insight might have been able to slightly warn her of her caretaker's true nature, but as it was Inner Moka was dulled along with the rest of her senses, and it went unnoticed. Mako Yakumaru had no idea of the bullet she had dodged, but it would have happened regardless.

Her ability was particularly strange even amongst the varied specialties inherent in monstrels. In a large enough quantity, the substance she produced allowed her to take control of an injected person telepathically, and best of all they would retain no memory of what they did under her direction. However, in a _small_ dosage it mimicked the effects of morphine almost perfectly, and while it lacked the total mental control a high dose allowed, _it_ made the injected subject extremely susceptible to verbal suggestion.

Nevertheless, it was far from foolproof, and she loathed to use the method because since it had to be _her_ verbally 'suggesting' whatever she needed, it was possible she could be seen in the act, and more than that, it severely limited what she could make them do. Not to mention the heap of problems just getting that kind of dose into someone without them questioning it, since there was no memory loss. In this case though, it worked flawlessly for what she had in mind.

Now on to the next item on her list.

Before she could make it out, the door opened on its own, admitting the motley group that was the Newspaper Club still in the middle of a conversation. It faded swiftly when they realized someone other than Moka was in the room, but she merely waited until the door was clear and gave them a nod of acknowledgement as she walked out. She gave no indication of any wrongdoing, no measure of guilt, hardly even the slightest pause for them to grasp the situation as Moka waved from over her shoulder. She was an actress whom played her part to the letter. It was just that easy.

Only when the door was closed behind her did she allow herself to shiver. It _should_ have been simple enough, she had given them no evidence to hint otherwise, but she didn't miss the way Tsukune Aono's seemingly carefree expression had narrowed for a fraction of a second. Just for a second, but she could still _feel_ his eyes on her back.

She knew what didn't sit right with her now. He reminded her of someone. He reminded her of her leader.

Anyone who gave her the same feeling as Hokuto Kaneshiro needed to die. He needed to die and he needed to die quickly, before he became even more of a threat.

Her timetable had just been moved up.

.

=I=======

.

Makeshift tables littered Moka Akashiya's hospital room as the group set to eating their belated lunch, but most of them were paying more attention to Tsukune as he politely demolished almost as much food as the rest of them combined. Ironically, only Mizore—who was seated out of view behind one of the beds—was making no show of gaping at the scene. Her mother had always said a healthy appetite was a good sign in a boy, and she had long thought Tsukune didn't eat near enough for how often he supplied the annoyingly attractive mosquito with his blood. Still, the pinkette _was_ quite interesting when medicated, a condition she had happily informed them of within moments of their arrival. It certainly made the banter between them entertaining.

"She...she threatened me with...hospital food, Tsukune! Hospital food!" Moka was saying, only somewhat coherently as her head bobbed with fatigue, and Tsukune smiled and hummed appropriately while he ate.

"That witch!" Kurumu gasped, amusement plain in her eyes.

"Hey!" protested Yukari, and the succubus laughed.

"Whoopsie. I mean: that _witch!_"

"Oh it is on!"

Tsukune sighed as the two got into one of their usual rows, but not for the first time that day he simply closed his eyes and remembered lives not his own. Vergil. Nero. So different, yet, so alike. How many opportunities to enjoy life had one squandered? How many had the other taken in, even if just because he could? More worrying was that he knew, of the two, he was more like Vergil, and in fact wanted to become even _more_ like him. _But—_just in knowing that he was given a huge advantage over his predecessor; he was determined not to make his mistakes.

When his eyes opened again, a lopsided smirk tugged at the edge of his mouth, taking in the spectacle the two girls were making with a hint of something unexplainable hidden far beneath his gaze. Was it experience? Longing? Amusement? Mizore didn't know, but she caught all of it even from her obscure viewpoint. It was confusing the hell out of her. He was still Tsukune, that was never in question, but whatever happened yesterday had changed him. It was subtle, so understated she wouldn't have noticed if she didn't have so much knowledge of his body language from her intensifying hours of observation, but he walked differently, he looked at things differently, he _reacted_ to things differently

His display waking up made _that_ point abundantly clear.

The longer she was around him, the more those changes stood out to her. Just in the walk to the cafeteria, his pace had shifted, almost mechanically, as if he was getting used to a stride unfamiliar with the length of his legs. When it became comfortable for him, his whole _bearing_ had changed. His shoulders straightened almost imperceptibly, the slouch all teenage boys seemed to have disappeared; it had the ease of confidence without losing the relaxed cheer Tsukune exhibited without trying, but there was something in the way he moved that reminded her acutely of her mother. It wasn't quite to the same level yet, but it was like he was prepared to pull a weapon at a moment's notice and turn that poise to lethal purposes. How he had adjusted to that so quickly was beyond her, especially when _she_ still didn't think she had it perfected, and she could turn the very moisture in the _air_ into a weapon. In that way, those changes terrified her.

She nearly jumped when she leaned over to get a better view out of her peripheral vision and saw his eyes dart down to hers. Yes, he was far, far more aware of his surroundings than he had ever been before. It would make her stal—_observing_ more complicated in the future, but the thought of him _knowing_ she was watching was so deliciously wicked she couldn't stop the color from flooding her cheeks. The edges of her fingers poked around the side of the bed to wave shyly at him, and he gave her an odd kind of smirk back with a wink that made her smother a giggle. Wherever he had gotten his new confidence from may be unknown, but she definitely liked it. Feared it, a little, but still.

"Are...are you even lishening to me anymore?" Moka pouted petulantly, glaring over at him with eyes fighting to stay open, and that time Mizore did giggle. The vampiress was still showing the effects of the medication she had been given, in that not only was she slower on the uptake, but any filter she might have had on her actions had been rather effectively neutralized. Hence the entertainment.

"Of course, Moka-san; that gown is terribly tacky, I agree," Tsukune replied without missing a beat, and Mizore had to applaud his smooth recovery. Neither of them expected the young woman's scowl to deepen _further._

"An—and thas another thing!" she exclaimed irritably, hooded eyes blazing. "Why am I shtill 'Moka-san'? Always 'Moka-san'! 'Moka-san' this, 'Moka-san' that! We—We almost died, Tsukune! Thas the...the second time you saved me and Ura-chan and just about died for it!" It wasn't _just_ the second by any means, but it _was_ the second time when his life had been in mortal peril and she hadn't known if she could bring him back. That was even worse. "Do you think we...we think so little of you? Big bad Vampire, so _shcary_, woun't wanna _offend_ her!" She stopped there, and looked up as if debating something. "Okaay, yeah, Ura-chan _can_ be s~cary shometimes, buh she's all bark and no bi—hmm, bad example. Uhhh, she's a...a big shoftie, hehe, thas it! She can get...get scared too, you know?"

Then she leaned towards him, hand covertly covering her mouth in what she might have thought was being secretive, but whispered loud enough for everyone to hear, "Do'n tell 'nyone I said that tho."

And there, there any suspicions Mizore might have ever denied having about the mysterious changes she had witnessed in Tsukune died forever. Beneath it all, Tsukune was _definitely_ still Tsukune. His eyes were as wide as she had ever seen them, and the food gripped between his chopsticks fell from numb fingers far away from his slack mouth. He recovered quickly, she would give him that, but his face was flaming.

Of course, Kurumu and Yukari's fight ground to a screeching halt.

"I-I can't stop calling you Moka-san, Moka-san! It—it wouldn't be right!"

If anything, that just pissed her off more. "You don' call Kurumu 'Kurumu-san', an'...an' the only reason you're not more familiar with Mizore-san is we don' know her that well yet! Why not...why not me? You were _my_ friend first! Mine!"

In less than a second her emotions switched gears yet again, and she pushed her tray away to sob quietly into her knees. Tsukune almost threw his food away to get to her side, but all his attempts to calm her went without answer. Though he wanted to hug her, every time he got close he flinched away at the last second. Thus far in their friendship, very few 'physical' barriers had been crossed—and if they had, not repeatedly—so he still wasn't sure if he should do it without her permission. For all the battle experience he had been given, he was still just a teenage boy, and one dealing with a teenage _girl_ he harbored some very serious feelings for. The medication was messing with her, he knew that, but just because she was overreacting didn't make it any easier to watch.

She made the decision for him. Her lithe hand gently closed over his approaching wrist, and when he looked to her, misty viridian eyes were pleading with him.

"Can I have a hug?" she whimpered.

For some reason, that brought him up short. "Wh-What?"

"You gave one to...to Kurumu and Yukari-chan, and...and I got one from them too. It...it was really nice, ih's been a long time since I've got'en hugs..." She didn't even realize what she was saying anymore, and that made it so much harder to hear. Only Tsukune had an inkling of how imperfect her life had been in the past, and as her first friend he felt something cold drop in his gut at the admission. As she was, Moka couldn't even appreciate what she had revealed, and instead just shook her head to regain her train of thought. "You scared me...so much...and...I want a hug!"

Like he would deny her that. He wanted to touch her so badly at times it hurt, now more than ever, so there was no way he wouldn't when she _asked_ him to.

Their audience tried to ignore the way she shuffled into him, the way even drugged, the two could look at each other and communicate everything and nothing at the same time, but they couldn't ignore the tears that leaked from between bubblegum lashes when she was nestled in his embrace, her head burrowed in the crook of his neck.

"You were sho, so weak, and bleeding everywhere...and I was so scared. We di'n't want you to die buh you were losing so much blood an' you wanted ours an' we jus' di'n't...di'n't...we warn'd you an' we di'n't wanna lose you buh there was so much blood an'..." She couldn't finish, simply collapsing into a fresh bout of hiccupping tears that Tsukune fought away as best he could with low murmurings and gentle rocking.

When she finally calmed, she snuggled in tighter. "Don' do that again, mm'kay?"

All he could do was nod. Horrible didn't even begin to describe how he felt. Normally his heart would have been trying to beat its way out of his ribs in this position, now all he could think about was how badly their gamble could have gone. Obviously _she_ had thought about it plenty. If anything had gone wrong, he would have left her at the mercy of the Outcast Ayashi, but at least he wouldn't have left her alone. Yukari wouldn't allow it, and Kurumu had been showing a depth of devotion not just to him, but her friends in general. Would they have made it in time? Would they have been able to save her?

...Would she have died too?

He held her tighter.

Yeah, that wasn't happening in _this_ lifetime.

She sighed happily. "Hehe, you know, I love the way you smell, Tsukune. Kinda...kinda diff'ren' now, buh nice. Ura-chan loves it...loves it too, silly girl. Mou...I'm so sleepy...and thirsty..."

Warning bells roared in his head even before he felt the first tickle of her lengthened canines on his skin, and to everyone's shock—especially Moka's—he practically yanked her away. As uninhibited as Moka was right then, the supposed rejection put her back on the verge of tears, but what she saw when she looked at his face went right through her drug-addled brain and froze her solid. He was more serious than she had ever seen him, more serious than she had ever seen _anyone_, and that was saying something. His brow was low, his lips thin, jaw tense—and wow did he look amazing with blue eyes.

She blinked. The blue was gone. She blinked again, then looked to her intravenous. Whatever that nurse had given her sure was strong.

"Later, Moka-san, I promise," he said softly, but the steel in his voice was unmistakable. Their talk would have to wait until she was coherent enough to appreciate what he told her, so that meant no blood for her. At least of his. He didn't like lying, but Vergil had always known when it was necessary to twist the truth. "Give me some time to recover, I'll go ask the nurses if they can get you another transfusion pack in the meantime. You just focus on getting some rest."

Her lower lip wobbled piteously. "But Tsuku~ne—"

"No."

"...Just a little?"

"Moka-san..."

"_Ple~ase?_"

He sighed. This was sounding more and more like one of the less mature arguments Kyrie and her brother Credo had had when they were younger. "Moka-san..."

She crossed her arms over her chest, and he tried very hard to ignore what that did to her bust and the paper-thin material covering it. "Buh...but bagged blood tastes gross! I want _you_, Tsukune!"

His heart lurched, and he cursed heaven and all its celestial occupants for the drugs Moka was on. No man should have to deal with words like that from one they pined for, especially when it didn't have the meaning they wanted it to. His smile, when it came, was tight. "And I want you to get better. You've been half-asleep since you were given those painkillers; don't fight me on this, Moka-san, please."

Moka scowled like a disgruntled child, altogether too cute to be the least bit threatening, and pulled her food back in front of her. What was left was finished quickly, with probably the least amount of etiquette anyone in the room had ever seen from her, then pushed away so she could slide down properly onto her pillow, where she bounced onto her side with a huff—the side facing away from him, he noted with a grimace.

"Won' forgive you for callin' me 'Moka-san' either...stupid Tsukune..."

Those flashbacks to Kyrie and Credo were _almost_ enough to make him smile. Kyrie had been a gentle soul, but every woman is once a young girl, prone to childish fights with their older brother.

Circumstances as they were, Tsukune was content to bear her hopefully short-lived animosity. If it wasn't, well, he'd cross that bridge when he got there.

"Sweet dreams, Moka-san," he murmured, and Moka mumbled something unintelligible, and very likely uncomplimentary, into her pillow before all he could hear was the soft sighs of sleep. At least _something_ went right. He chuckled weakly as he ran a hand down his face. "Yeah, you weren't tired _at all_. Liar."

Kurumu managed a laugh too, despite what had just gone on moments earlier. "Almost as bad of a liar as you, but it takes _her_ a shot full of happy pills to get that way."

"Oh ha ha, very funny," he retorted sarcastically. Better left unsaid was what would make him such a good liar _now_ was his reputation for being a _bad_ one. "We can't all be as good as Yukari-chan. I still can't believe you were able to talk the nurses into letting you stay last night, _and_ get today off school. _I_ have an excuse."

Yukari sniffled, turning soulful violet eyes glistening with unshed tears up at her crush as she squeezed her oversized hat to her chest. "But...but you and Moka-san were attacked! You can't expect us to be able to concentrate in class when our friends are in the _hospital_, can you? We just _had_ to stay, we had to!"

Tsukune winced. Only _Vergil_ might have been able to withstand that assault. "Okay, okay, jeez; you made your point."

She grinned. "The best lies are always rooted in truth, so I wasn't lying so much as I was hamming it up! There are _some_ benefits to being my size. I may not have udders like the cow over here but my puppy-dog eyes are lethal ~desu!" she preened as she buffed her nails on her shirt.

"Why you little—!" Kurumu raged.

And the fight that had stalled between them restarted with seamless efficiency.

"Maybe you could distract them with something shiny?" Mizore quietly offered, and if Tsukune hadn't already been aware of her presence he would have jumped.

"Has anyone ever told you that you could teach ninjas a thing or two?"

She sank back behind the mattress until only her eyes remained above, cheeks flushed.

Tsukune yawned, slipping to his feet from Moka's bed as the clouds outside reminded the students of the storm still raging strong on the other side of the windows. Truth be told, he was probably just as tired as Moka, he was just able to hide it better. To be fair, Moka had medication blunting her usual edge. He felt incredible, and the knowledge of what he could do now if he wanted was even _more_ incredible, but there was still a bone-deep weariness from the trials of yesterday that refused to go away. It all came back to him being awakened well before he should have been. Now that his stomach was full, he was more than ready to return to oblivion.

After what he had just dealt with, he really, _really_ wanted to. The drugs may have made Moka more uninhibited, but if that was the case than was what she said what she was too afraid to otherwise? How much of that did she really mean? Was he reading too far into it? He had been falling in love with Moka from the second he had laid eyes on her, and her inner personality, the true Vampire...she had become just as important. Moka had said 'we' quite a few times as well, so...dare he hope? Did she...they...want more too? If so, was _he_ actually being unfair to her by constantly referring to her so deferentially? He just wanted...and she was just so...but that it was right there, wasn't it? She put up such a strong front it was hard to remember _she_ could get scared too. She was a Vampire: beautiful, powerful, unrivaled amongst her peers; but she was also a woman, with all the same insecurities and fears of any teenager.

She had certainly given him a lot to think about.

Then he realized _he_ was still a teenager, so how did...?

Stumbling, Tsukune grabbed his forehead with a grimace. Nero he could understand, but how Vergil had any inkling about women was beyond him, given what he knew of the man. Memories flashed past his eyes, all with the same detached interest, near contempt, Vergil carried so well—_human nature,_ the theme. For the umpteenth time that day, he sighed. He still had so much to learn from them.

Mizore vanished when he made his way to the bed she was using as cover, and even though the combat-ready part of his brain could somewhat track her nigh impossible movements, his rational mind just couldn't understand how she was able to find another hiding place in a room as sparse as a hospital's. Vergil had never been one for stealth, but he never would have used it if he had. He never rushed, he never showed weakness, and anything that got between him and his destination never survived. Nero was too much like Dante to even know what the word 'stealth' meant. Again, Tsukune preferred Vergil's route, but he had to admit Mizore was impressive.

"You'll have to show me how you do that sometime," he commented evenly, and the Snow Woman found herself blushing again at the eyebrow infinitesimally raised in her direction.

She should have been unnerved that he ferreted out her location so easily, but that was hard when she was more focused on the _respect_ she felt from such a simple facial expression. Yet another thing that had changed. Where he had once reacted like the rest of his friends to her appearances, in the length of a day he seemed to find it more a display of skill than anything else. Mizore couldn't bring herself to feel bad about that, but that didn't stop her from wondering about it.

She rolled a shoulder in an approximation of a shrug and received a polite nod in response; all that needed to be said done in two gestures. It was extremely refreshing to the woman that preferred not to speak if she didn't have to.

"You don't think the others would mind if I took a nap too, do you? I'm still really tired," Tsukune explained. He didn't want to seem rude, but he needed more time to accommodate the two additional lives worth of skills that had been pumped into his head, and sleep had proven to be the best method of doing that so far. The longer he stayed awake the more uncomfortable the memory flashes were. That, and he was pretty damn tired, period.

Mizore smirked through her lollipop. "If you can sleep through that racket," she replied, looking pointedly over at the scuffle still taking place. _Idiots._

"Watch me."

...She thought it best if she didn't reply to that.

.

=I=======

.

Mako's plans were actually given a bit of breathing room when neither Tsukune or Moka awoke again that day, or the day after that for that matter. The other staff made sure to check Tsukune's condition, but since his vitals were strong and steady they had chalked it up to what he had been through, no doubt surprised something similar hadn't happened earlier. After ensuring he had everything he needed for his stay in a semi-coma and adding extra transfusion packs to Moka as necessary, they left them to their friends. Just another day at a hospital for monsters.

Though it would have been a perfect opportunity to take care of the problem, Mako dared not act simply because they were never left alone for any length of time, and that wasn't even taking into account the fact that she was never sure where the hell the purple-haired one _was_. Thankfully direct action wasn't something she did very often, and this was one tragedy she had to see performed. The one blessing in the whole situation was that her post-hypnotic 'suggestions' could last far longer than the complete dominance a full injection allowed, since it didn't put the same stress on the subject's mind and body. She knew full well her plan _would_ happen, it just irked her that it wouldn't happen right away. Ah well, as she had to keep reminding herself, good things came to those who waited. She would have something to tide her over soon.

Midou, cockroach that he was, had not only been moved from the ICU, but was also expected to awaken soon. The administration absolutely _could not_ get to him when that happened. Threats of expulsion weren't anything new, but the headmaster surely wouldn't stop there given the situation. God only knew what a Dark Lord could do to put pressure on him, and they were too close to their plan to be given away now.

What a shame.

Not.

...

The first thing Midou Kusabi noticed when he opened his eyes was the darkness. Even when his vision came into focus, the walls of the bland room he was in were painted in shadow, casting his surroundings in shades of gray undisturbed but for the soft glow and stable beep of the heart monitor to his right. He could feel the restricting tension of bandages all over his body, going so far as to block half of his eyesight, but even that felt muffled to his nerves, so he was definitely drugged. Since he could _still_ feel twinges in his ribs when he tried to take a deeper than normal breath, he considered that a very good thing. It only took him a few seconds to remember why he was there.

_Shit. _He had lost, and badly. _That bastard, what _is_ he?_

"...Finally awake, huh? You know, you did more damage to Moka Akashiya than Tsukune Aono, but you wouldn't know it by looking at them. You do remember him, don't you? The guy you'd 'make into mince meat'? They've been sleeping it off for the past couple of days, but not before he pressed for charges and expulsion for _all_ of you," a sickly sweet voice said from a darkened corner, and it wasn't his dry throat that caused Midou to swallow.

"Please...guh, give me one more chance," he said, and was quite proud of how strong he was able to make himself sound despite how he must look. "Next time I'll beat him for sure. With these hands, Tsukune will...!"

The resulting chuckle sent chills down his spine.

"Midou-kun..." Her hand trailed over his body as the woman slunk to his side—not close enough to touch, just enough to hint at the sensation—rising slowly like an executioner's axe, and he wasn't fast enough to move when he saw her finger transform. "...No way."

The needle plunged into his throat.

"Why'd you think I was sent here? _Ehh?_ To clean up _your_ mess, right? Midou-kun?" she asked rhetorically as he choked on his own blood.

"W-Wait...!" he tried to yell, but she would have none of it.

"Losers are never forgiven...that is the rule of the Outcast Ayashi! You've taught it before, haven't you, Midou-kun? With the exception of me and everyone above me, _useless people like you who disappoint us shall feel our wrath!_"

If he had been given more time to recover, he might have been able to fight her off. But no, the clean sweeper had only been waiting for him to wake up, to be able to _see_ him struggle for his life when he was at his weakest. At their mercy.

"Looks like I'll be the one to kill those Vampires, Midou-kun."

_Bitch..._

He tried to fight, but not for her sick amusement. If he was going to die he wasn't about to go quietly, but he couldn't breathe...he could hardly move...

_I really am gonna die, aren't I? Dammit._

Rather than a scream, a gurgling laugh bubbled from his throat as his assassin twisted her finger in deeper, probably trying to elicit the screams he was denying her.

All he could think of was glowing eyes. Of a fiend leaking neon blue light through strategic cracks in organic armor. Of a demon the size of a man but wielding a shadow so much larger.

Tsukune Aono was _not_ a Vampire. He didn't know _what_ he was, but he was just as dangerous.

He might have told their organization that when he was better, but hell, since they were killing him off he would send them to their doom with a smile.

With the last of his strength, he spit a glob of blood on her face.

Not how he would have preferred to go, but eh, he would have the last laugh in the end. The look she gave him when she realized what he had done kept him warm well into the cold of death.

Mako Yakumaru merely wiped the blood from her cheek, sneering down at the very dead body of one Midou Kusabi. That wasn't nearly as satisfying as it could have been, but it left her very pleased with herself nonetheless.

_Well well, with that loose end taken care of, I can get on to the _fun_ part. Your time's run out, Tsukune, and you, Moka, will get just enough time to see what you did to your little boyfriend before you join him._

It made her _shiver_.

And she walked off, confident in the utter lack of evidence left behind.

.

=I=======

.

That confidence remained well in place as she watched her puppet shuffle towards her target.

As plans are apt to do, it hadn't gone perfectly, but in the end the goal had been accomplished. Moka and Tsukune had eventually awakened, both looking better than they had any right to in Mako's mind. When it had come time to leave and Moka had wandered off as she had been programmed to, Mako had sent her a friendly face in the form of the doctor that had given them their pre-release check-up. He had, of course, been injected beforehand. She didn't want any potential evidence getting back to her, but she had stayed close just in case.

It turned out to be a wise decision. While her injections normally made people her slaves with ease, there were those rare ones that had fought the control. It usually happened when she made someone do something their subconscious found so repulsive to their character they instinctively tried to resist. It manifested in many ways, and typically resulted in the body shutting down to protect itself. In the time he was to carry out her demands, the good doctor had begun foaming at the mouth and literally shaking to try and prevent her actions. Those jerky movements allowed the little Vampire to knock him out cold before she was properly under her thrall, and that meant Mako had to finish the job herself.

It seemed she had managed to pick one of the few youkai doctors whom took their Hippocratic Oath seriously. Wonderful. That tiny hiccup aside, Moka was subdued in short order. After all, the last thing she expected was for the kindly nurse to turn on her. It was almost sickeningly easy for what was _supposed_ to be a Vampire.

That had been fun, but now, now Mako finally got to see what she had been waiting for.

...

Tsukune was getting worried. One minute he and Moka had been on their way out, the next she had mumbled something about saying goodbye to someone and disappeared. That had been a while ago now.

He knew he could be exaggerating things in his head, but the battle-drenched memories of two former lives made it very clear that if he and Moka had been targeted by the same people twice already, it stood to reason they would try again. It was making him unnecessarily jumpy. If not for Vergil's influence he would have gone out looking for her already, but he restricted himself to a loop around the connecting hallways and their stairwells so he wasn't too far if she came back.

His hands itched for a sword, but that was just another phantom habit he seemed to have picked up after waking the second time. Quite honestly he now felt naked without one, but he had to remember that his predecessors lived in different times, and bearing a weapon like that in his day and age wasn't as socially acceptable. However, both had also been more than capable of defending themselves with their bodies alone, as any powerful weapon without a powerful wielder was nothing but a crutch. He had been given an enormous head-start in that respect, more so after awakening the second time since his 'rebirth' to find himself much more familiar with what had been unceremoniously crammed into his head. It was all there, just waiting for him to teach his muscles how his mind already knew to move. One day he would be ready, and Tsukune resolved to be worthy of Yamato when he found it. There was no 'if' involved; he _would_ do it. The only question was when his search would be able to start.

The idle thought speculated whether Moka would like to come along when he did. Like now though, first he would have to find her. If that wasn't enough, far away from the foyers and range of common rooms the various floors held, the place appeared damn near deserted. He knew it wasn't and that the rooms themselves were occupied, but the fact remained.

Despite that, he wasn't afraid; not anymore. Vergil had lived most of his life in isolation, combing ruins, castles, and libraries for knowledge of the Infernal...of his father. He was often alone, but he was a very learned man for his age; for any age for that matter, especially in _his_ time. Knowledge was a power all its own and Vergil left no stone unturned when it came to power. All of that he had left to Tsukune.

Tsukune had never realized how constantly afraid he was before until he had been shown what it was like to live without it, and he swore it would never find a foothold in him again. Worry though, _that_ was allowed, and _that_ was getting harder to ignore.

Steps not his own suddenly sounded down the hall, each _clack_ growing in strength the closer they came, and Tsukune let loose the breath he had been holding when Moka came into view.

"Moka-san! Thank goodness, I was wondering where you went!"

And then he saw the scalpel in her hand.

Instantly, every sense went to high alert. _Something's wrong!_

"Are you okay, Moka-san?"

The hand holding the blade lashed out, and even though he moved he still felt the pressure-wave the little knife had made. It wouldn't have harmed him, but just that she had done such a thing in her _sealed form_ was cause for concern. He knew Moka's outer form had strength beyond a regular human, but to do something like that...? What was going on?

He tried again. "What's wrong? You're acting strange, Moka-san..."

He couldn't have known the pleasure he was giving to the Outcast watching the proceedings, but Mako was beside herself with glee. _She won't answer you, Tsukune. She can't feel anything anymore; she's just one of the many pieces I've used in my elegant, cruel game of chess. How does it feel, Tsukune Aono?_

Her puppet ambled towards him, gaze unfocused, mission clear as she swiped down.

_How does it feel to be killed by the girl you like most?_

To her consternation, he dodged, setting himself into a stance she didn't recognize.

She wouldn't, considering it had last been used by Vergil Sparda.

When the scalpel came down again he was ready, catching her wrist at the downswing and spinning them both into the wall where he could keep her hands secured above her head. He was sure to step into her legs properly too; many a low blow could be made against a male in their position. Like he had suspected, the power behind her arms was nothing short of extraordinary, and this was supposed to be her _sealed_. Suddenly, the prospect of the girl he was fending off somehow having the blood of a devil wasn't that hard to believe.

_Is part of the seal mostly mental?_ He thought. It would explain a lot, especially her tendency to crack concrete with her pushes when she wasn't paying attention. Still, it didn't add up to what he was feeling _now_.

"Moka-san, wait! Why are you doing this?"

Her answer was as chilling as the monotone it was spoken in. "D...Die...Die...Tsuku...ne..."

He noticed the tears in her eyes at the same time he noticed the blood on her uniform's shoulder, and from up close it was just as easy to see the vacant expression behind the tears. Not just vacant, no, _crushed_ by the will of another_._ It was Moka's eyes looking at him, but Moka wasn't the one seeing him.

_Oh no..._

His breath hitched, stuttered, then stilled just as completely as the rest of him when he realized what he was dealing with. Images, horrible images; of three glowing orbs laughing as a Sparda's Trigger was perverted into something altogether different from what it once was; of a red-eyed knight in twisted black armor; of a fight among brothers as total strangers, with only a fragment of his original honor.

Of the one time since his mother's death Vergil Sparda had known _despair_.

The cascade of memories slackened his grip on her wrists for only a moment, but that was all that was needed. Had Tsukune's reflexes been any slower he would have surely lost an eye; fortunately for him they weren't. He didn't come out unscathed, however; stumbling back, hand held to the bloody gash over his right eye even as the side of his shirt rapidly stained red from where the knife had caught the inside of his bicep in its path. Sure it hurt, but it was more an inconvenience than anything. Head wounds didn't _trickle_ blood, they _poured_. Tsukune's pain tolerance had been growing by leaps and bounds ever since he arrived at Youkai Academy; combined with an inheritance of two lifetimes worth of fighting and his new fortitude, the pain only served to sharpen his distracted mind. The bleeding was the real problem.

"Moka-san, stop this! Fight it! Come on I know you can do it, I know you're still in there! This isn't you!" he hissed as he wove through her sloppy follow-ups. It was getting more and more obvious she was being controlled, to the point Tsukune didn't know how he had ever thought Moka was attacking him under her own power. She moved as if in a daze; practically drunk, really. She lacked everything that made Moka, Moka, except the body. He wouldn't—couldn't—hurt her though, because it _was_ her body. "Fight!"

The vampiress' arm trembled, and the pervasive pools of saltwater gained enough volume to streak down her cheeks.

Tsukune smiled grimly. That was promising.

Mako Yakumaru almost had a heart attack. She hadn't been thwarted, not entirely, but not only was Tsukune no longer fooled by the attack, he somehow knew the method behind it! _Finish him, finish him NOW!_

Moka shook, made to move, then hesitated.

Tsukune capitalized on it immediately. "That's it, fight!"

_Kill him!_

She shook harder, but started moving nonetheless; her every step a battle of wills she simply couldn't win.

_Kill him!_

"Please, Moka-san!"

Indecision, then resumption.

_Kill him!_

There was one more thing he could try; he only hoped she would forgive him if it really had been the drugs talking earlier. He took a deep breath, grit his teeth, and yelled, "MOKA!"

She stopped dead.

The urge to cheer was ruthlessly squashed. It wasn't over yet. "I'm here, Moka. Listen to my voice. You're Moka, Moka Akashiya. No more 'Moka-san', I promise, just come back..."

For the first time her expression shifted, mingling joy with her tears, and part of Tsukune dared to believe he might have gotten through to her.

_KILL HIM!_

He shouldn't have been surprised when joy warped into pain, but he was anyway.

She lunged, but she never made it to him.

Out of nowhere, Kurumu dived into the charging vampiress with enough force to send them both sprawling, and she was far from finished. With a cry of her friend's name, the succubus hoisted herself into position and slapped her. Hard.

"What are you doing?! Just what are you _doing?!_" she screamed as she shook Moka by her collar.

The light he loved returned to Moka's eyes, but Tsukune's gut clenched at the confusion apparent in her face, which slowly transformed into horror when she saw his appearance and what she was holding. "Eh...? No way...I did...?"

Kurumu was livid, already prepared to deliver what was bound to be a scathing tirade when Tsukune knelt at her side. The cold fury etched into his blood-drenched features was enough to choke off the very air in her lungs. "Miss Kurono, I would highly suggest you refrain from saying something you might regret until you have all the facts. Do you understand me?"

He realized too late he was channeling Vergil when the bluette flinched away from him, shaken by both his words and his tone, nodding tearfully. It was the first time since their original misbegotten meeting that he had called her anything but her first name. Contrite, he softened his voice. "She wasn't herself, Kurumu-chan. This isn't her fault."

"'Isn't her fault'?!" Kurumu growled, turning a sceptical eye to Moka. "_How_ is it not her fault?! She attacked you, Tsukune! She's still holding the knife!"

When she realized that, Moka dropped it as if scalded. "But...but I..." she whimpered, and Tsukune quickly reached over with his clean hand to cover her own.

"You were being controlled, Moka. Someone else wanted me to think you were trying to kill me, but I know that wasn't you," he explained gently. Contrary to his intentions, the confirmation of what she had done had her trembling, nonsensically trying to sputter out something, _anything_, to deny her involvement, and only ended up breaking into tears. On this occasion he didn't think twice about pulling her close; though he did ensure it wasn't on his bloody side. "Shh, shhh, Moka; it's all right. You're okay now. I'm fine too; it's all okay."

_That_ got a reaction. "_Fine?_" she snapped bitterly as she wrenched herself away from him. "Tsukune you're _not_ fine! Will you look at yourself, you're...you're..." Her outburst trailed off in awestruck silence when Tsukune used the unsoiled patches of the hospital scrubs he was still wearing to wipe his face, revealing pristine skin beneath the blood.

"Fine," he finished for her, "just like I said."

Her wide eyes said it all.

Kurumu was under no compunction to stay silent. "What. The. Hell."

It was at that moment Yukari and Mizore approached from the nearby staircase, the former with a shocked exclamation that derailed the budding interrogation.

Mako Yakumaru had disappeared long before.

.

=I=======

.

Far from the scene of the crime, Mako stalked through the hospital in a quiet rage so complete she didn't even try to portray the innocent nurse she was supposed to be. She couldn't believe she had gotten so close, so very close to her objective, only for one of their friends to interfere long enough to break her hold on Moka. Her absolute control became weaker with time, and it definitely didn't help that Tsukune had managed to divine what had happened and made every effort to help Moka fight it! It was maddening! It was impossible! How had he _known?_

Quiet laughter sounded from one of the benches she walked past, as if aware of her thoughts. "How scary, Mako-san," a man's voice said lightheartedly, and she turned her head at being addressed. "So you failed?" he continued, "To kill Tsukune, that is."

Fear joined her anger. To the untrained eye the man behind her would look like any other if he didn't garner a second glance—he was certainly handsome enough for it—but to her, she knew exactly what laid beneath the facade. She knew this man. "You are...Kiria-san? Why are you here, Kiria-san?"

He stood, all calm and smiling and so utterly _fake_ she wanted to be sick.

"Nothin', just got a mission from the organization," he replied. "Apparently everyone there wants to put a lid on this problem, so I'm here to cooperate with you. Let's finish this together, Mako-san."

Like she would even dignify that with a verbal response. Just who did he think she was? She had played this game before.

Quick as a snake, one of her needled fingers lashed out as his head, instead destroying the bench he had come from when he effortlessly leaned out of the way.

"...That was dangerous, Mako-san. What is the meaning of this...? To raise a hand against me..."

"Hmph, isn't that obvious? 'Cooperate with me'? What a joke," she sneered as her transformation began overtaking more of her body. "Aren't you my 'backup'? If I failed against Tsukune, you came so I would be added to the 'bloody punishment', _right?!_ Just like what I did to Midou!"

Chaos broke out among the students in the lounge at the nurse attacking what was, to them, a helpless bystander, and Mako honed in on them like the _real_ helpless bystanders they were. In an instant all of her fingers were put to work, spraying blood everywhere as her puppet army grew.

"Don't interfere, Kiria! I haven't failed anything yet, because I'll kill Tsukune as planned!"

_I'll kill you...! I'll show you what hell is with these hands, Tsukune Aono...!_

...

Oblivious to what was going on just a short commute away, Tsukune was seething as he stepped out of the washroom toweling his hair. He would have liked to be in his own clothes, but at least he had been given some new scrubs to replace his old ones and a swift shower to wipe off the blood. The staff had taken one look at him and practically yanked him into an observation room away from his friends, and to make matters worse, when they finally did clear him like he had told them all along, he finds out Moka had been separated from their friends as well and was being questioned by Ruby! His displeasure was known to everyone in the room, most especially the Exorcist.

"I don't see what this is accomplishing, Headmaster," he virtually purred in scorn, Vergil to the core. "We already know it wasn't Moka who did this."

"He's right ~desu!" Yukari exclaimed heatedly. "No matter how many times Ruby-san asks she just answers 'I don't know'! I already feel sorry for Moka-san..."

**"And how would you suggest we go about this, then?"** the priestly man responded calmly. Something about the Aono child was seriously off-putting, but he just couldn't put his finger on what. **"The only evidence we have for sure is that she attacked you. Like it or not, she's the only link we have."**

Tsukune sat down on a bed heavily, glaring from under tightened brows. "That's not true and you know it. We know she was being controlled, and we know from the blood on her shirt and jacket she was injured beforehand. If I were to make a guess, whatever controlled her required a physical application, but because she's a Vampire the mark had already healed by the time she made it to me."

**"...Oh?"**

He glared harder. He had had a lot of time to think on this, and with his own 'personal' experience, he had come to one conclusion. "Moka is a Vampire—a monster's monster even with her rosary—so I doubt she came into contact with someone psychically capable of overpowering her will in the time between her wandering off and when she came back." It had taken Mundus _years_ to break down Vergil into Nelo Angelo, and he had been Ruler of the Underworld at the time. Moka was powerful, of that there was no doubt, with not one but _two_ consciousnesses to overcome. There was just no way. "No, whatever happened had a shortcut, some kind of serum or elixir that was probably injected into her neck if the blood is anything to go by. She was played with like a doll, moved like a doll, and judging from her memory loss that is exactly what she was: a doll.

"Whatever it is, it's only temporary though. It could have been Kurumu-chan's slap that knocked her out of it; it could have been my calls getting through to her; it could have been weakened by the amount of time she had been under or any combination of the three. From what I understand, Vampires heal abnormally fast even for monsters, so that also needs to be taken into account. What that means is that even if there _was_ a trace left in her after the fact, since you've focused on asking a girl with no memory _questions_ rather than checking _her_ for tampering, there probably isn't anything left by now anyway."

After that, he wasn't the only one glaring at the Exorcist.

**"Put like that, the argument could be made that this has likely been done before. If the perpetrator wasn't caught then, it's equally as likely that there isn't a trace to look for in the first place,"** the headmaster countered.

"So we're dealing with someone that can prick you in the neck and turn you against your friends in an instant?! And nobody would ever know?" Kurumu fumed angrily. Knowing what had been done to Moka left a sour taste in her mouth; what she had almost said to her after made it even more bitter. If Tsukune hadn't stopped her, she could have lost one of the few people she was willing to consider a friend. "I was so mad at her. I thought...I don't know what I thought, I just saw the knife, and Moka rushing at you..." She growled in frustration. "Oooh, this is the worst!"

"I'd imagine that's what the person was hoping for," Tsukune opined dryly. "Moka wouldn't have much of a future charged with murder, just like Midou won't have much of one charged with attempted murder."

"Charged with...? You don't think this was retaliation by the Outcasts, do you ~desu?" Yukari squeaked.

"That's exactly what I think."

Tenmei Mikogami sighed inaudibly. **"Midou Kusabi won't have much of a future regardless. He was found dead in his bed shortly before your incident; unidentified wound to the throat. That's why Ruby-chan and I were here, originally."**

After Tsukune had tossed that around in his mind for a while, his eyes narrowed dangerously. "A student who attacked another student ends up dead, and the student he had attacked before winds up attacking another with a scalpel—which could have been used earlier. She also happens to be a Vampire, capable of 'wounds to the throat' without one. You thought...!"

**"I **_**know,"**_ he corrected airily,"**you both had nothing to do with it. Midou-kun was sequestered well away from you two, and the staff have been under strict orders not to tell you where he was for this very reason. You weren't suspects in the first place because you would have still been sleeping at the time; it was clear he had been dead for hours already. The wound wasn't consistent with a scalpel or any conventional knife, and clearly not a bite of any kind, otherwise Moka-chan would be having those questions given to her in a much different manner. Relax, Tsukune-kun. You will be able to see Moka-chan shortly."**

Abruptly, Tsukune stood and headed to the door, pausing only enough to give one last glare over his shoulder. "Well I'm sorry, _your holiness_, but you haven't given me a good enough reason to stay away from her. If I didn't know any better I'd almost say you're more interested in _me_, but if that was the case then I don't know why you let our friends stay with me but _she_ had to be questioned alone. So thanks but no thanks; I'm not interested in your bullshit."

And without so much as a 'by your leave', he was gone, leaving a speechless group behind him.

It would only be later that he would chuckle and realize Nero had more of an influence on him than he had first thought.

...

Those thoughts were as dark as the cloud-cover that had refused to leave over the days he had been asleep, apparently determined to keep Youkai Academy entrenched in perpetual dusk for as long as they could. If only his course was as sure as the one he was striding down the corridors.

The Outcasts were quickly becoming a problem too big to ignore if they were willing to go to such lengths to get to him and Moka, but he could think of no solution short of destroying them that would get them off their backs. The monstrels wanted to prove themselves strong by defeating what they considered 'purebred' monsters, but if they knew the truth they'd see just how ironic that was. Not even the so-called 'purebred' monsters actually were 'pure'; they were just the ones that had kept the most characteristics of their demon ancestors and tried to preserve them.

He wondered how they'd react if they found out it was a _half_-devil that defeated the Ruler of the Underworld. By all rights, Vergil and Dante had once been looked down upon by the denizens of Hell for their heritage in their time as well—it was something those demons didn't live to regret should they have ever encountered either of the two. Even without the shared experiences of Vergil and Nero, Tsukune could understand and appreciate the quest for acknowledgement the Outcasts were pursuing; however, their method guaranteed they would gain nothing but disdain. So far they had attacked while he was feverish with pain, while they had a hostage then blatantly abused Moka's weaknesses, and the latest without even showing their faces. They lacked honor in every meaning of the word, and any of their so-called 'accomplishments' were dirtied with that stain. No self-respecting youkai, let alone _devil_, would consider them worth _jack_ on a neutral battleground.

With the weather outside and the time of day, he never thought anything of the gradually dimming hallway, but it did strike him as odd when he saw it continued into the lounge. That didn't make him prepared to slip in the entryway, especially with hospital slippers on. Vergil would have literally slipped himself into a smooth ready stance so he wasn't caught unaware even if there was no threat; Nero would have been his sarcastically arrogant self and purposely fell into an extravagantly performed maneuver that would make it seem like he had planned it the whole time. Tsukune's mind was perfectly capable and ready with instructions for him to do either one, sadly his body—though far from human—simply wasn't used to them and the way they would force him to move. Predictably, Tsukune thus fell flat on his ass.

_Okay, that was embarrassing,_ he groaned to himself.

Then he saw what he had slipped on. _Blood._ His eyes trailed the spatter littering the common-room floor in horror, each leading to a body lying silent and unmoving.

He was to the first victim before he had even told his body what to do, Nero's memories of missions gone wrong at the forefront.

Back when real demons had still roamed the earth, after the loner had accepted his calling, it swiftly became clear no matter how powerful, he was only one man. In what would develop into one of his proudest achievements, Nero had salvaged what remained of the Order of the Sword into a force that _actually_ protected the inhabitants of Fortuna from the lingering legions of darkness. They became what the old Order was supposed to be, though with Nero at the helm it quickly lost its deification of Sparda. The Legendary Dark Knight was a hero worthy of epics, but he wasn't God. Some still believed, but the Order was there to protect the people, not guide their beliefs. Not anymore.

Of course, once the martial aspect was in place and it was clear they were being looked to for other things, governmental things, the Order had to evolve. Nero didn't kid himself; he was definitely not the kind of person to be leading such a complex organization. He stuck to what he knew, becoming the Knight-Commander of the Order, leader of the fighters under their banner—and unofficial conscience so the Order never overstepped its bounds again.

As with any leader in any fight, especially against demons, he saw scenes that would make the hardest of men weep.

Every single one of those scenes was fresh in his mind as Tsukune checked for signs of life, but he wasn't too far gone in his task to miss the muted sound of oncoming steps. He whirled around, setting himself defensively in front of the bodies he could, and the missing pieces fell into place when he saw the nurse that had once attended Moka step out of the shadows. He felt like a fool, but there would be time for self-recrimination later. Lives were at stake.

"Ahh...nice to see you, Tsukune-kun," the blonde faker cooed as vine-like fingers hovered menacingly around her. "I'm happy you came here intentionally, it saves me the trouble of having to call you here..."

_Calm,_ he told himself. Only by ending this quickly could he possibly get the victims the help they needed. He needed to think, not just rush in. He wasn't Vergil, he wasn't Nero, but he would do them both proud.

The look he gave her told her how much he thought of her; it was one the eldest Sparda sibling used often. "If you had to call me here that means you already did it. You weren't expecting us to survive your little play earlier, were you, and that's made you desperate, hasn't it? Heard about what happened to Midou yet?" Her face told him everything. "Hmph. You Outcasts don't have a very high tolerance for failure, do you? You didn't plan this, so don't try to make it look like you did."

"Shut up!" she sneered back, her once-lovely face twisted. "I'm Mako Yakumaru from the Outcast Ayashi. As per the organization's orders, I've come to eliminate you!"

Tsukune thought he was prepared for whatever she would do.

He was wrong—_she_ didn't do anything.

The hand that grabbed his ankle made him start, and that was only the beginning, as the bloodied bodies around him began to rise with murderous intent. He had more than enough power to throw them off, but he didn't want to hurt them any more than they already were. God only knew how they were even moving in the first place!

"Huhu...surprised? You shouldn't be. I can control other people at will if I inject my body's fluids into them with my fingers. I can control _everybody_ at _once!_ There's no place to escape, Tsukune-kun! I'll have you die here!"

Like zombies the wounded scrawled at him, climbing over and under each other to get at any piece of him they could. The lone sign of discomfort he gave was a mild grimace here and there as he tried to dislodge them, and only tried hard enough to succeed when the unholy creations began biting enough to do real damage.

"So it really was you that manipulated Moka into attacking me," he stated darkly, and her smile made the fury of that time come rushing back.

She laughed at him. "Tch, what a horrible face. You're finished, Tsukune-kun; maybe when you die you'll show me the face I want!"

A finger flew at him, noxious tip ready to spear him through, but it was at that second that a flash of pink caught his peripheral vision.

Devil senses perceived it in slow motion. The path Moka was taking; the path the finger was on; what was going to happen...what he wouldn't allow. He needed to move, he needed to get in front of her. She didn't know he could handle it, she didn't know what he was now. He couldn't let her take that for him, not after all she'd done for him.

Vergil's memories provided the means, Tsukune's will provided all he needed to do it.

The Dark Slayer style essentially relied on one thing. More than the space-cutting abilities of Yamato, when used in proper combat it was the teleportation technique Vergil had developed that made it truly deadly. It was as instantaneous as the draw of his sword, evidence of his mastery of his Infernal heritage. He called it 'Trick'.

In the time between heartbeats, Tsukune was gone from the grip of his zombified enemies and standing protectively before his misinformed friend, just in time to be impaled by the needled finger.

He didn't know who looked more shocked, Mako or Moka.

"Don't worry, Moka...I can handle this much. It's my turn to...protect you now," he said warmly, even as blood dribbled from his mouth at the force of the blow.

Right after he said that he realized how stupid he had just been, when Mako retracted her finger to lick it in beatific pleasure.

"Ahh~ what a foolish boy," she tittered. "I thought you didn't like my 'injections', yet you rushed in to take one! Hehe, try to protect her, Tsukune-kun! Try to protect her from yourself!"

Try he did.

Neither woman was prepared for the scream he issued, ragged and livid, rising in volume until it warped into something bone-chillingly inhuman. He stumbled and clawed at the air around him like he was fighting off an enemy only he could see, but what really gained their attention was the brilliant blue lightning that was starting to spark from his skin. His yells turned frantic as his body began to turn to his appointed target, and Moka gasped into her hands when their gazes met.

Suddenly there was nothing else. There were no puppets grasping for her, holding her in place; there was no blood assaulting her nostrils; there was no nurse laughing and coaxing on what was to be her killer. There was only the rich mahogany she had gotten lost in time and again, filled with agony and anger beyond understanding as they slowly, incredibly began shifting into a blue brighter than anything she had ever seen.

And then, between one stumble and the next, he _changed_.

Burnt red armor grown like an organic exoskeleton covered most of his mass, cracked in veins of white-blue power the same as what glowed from beneath the pieces of lucent skin left open. Scales of cobalt added depth to the lined musculature of the natural protection, and yet for all those changes, the face staring back at her was painfully recognizable. It answered so much and gave so many more questions in return. As a Vampire she was hyperaware of any monster's youki...but she felt nothing like it from the being, only a sense deep in the back of her mind that _knew _he was even more dangerous than he looked. Just what had her blood turned her friend into?

An unearthly cry smashed her back to reality as he took another step against his will, form flickering, and he fell to one knee clutching his head. She didn't remember much from when she was controlled, but she remembered a voice...and an overwhelming feeling of trust. That was what she wanted to preserve, the one thing that told her he would still be in danger despite her amnesia. She might not have been able to protect him, but he hadn't given up on her when she was like this, and she definitely wasn't about to give up on him!

"Tsuku...Tsukune!"

He stiffened, impossibly blue eyes locked on green.

She found herself smiling even as she tried to get out of the grip of her unresponsive captors. "Tsukune!" she called again, stronger.

He flinched, flashing between forms.

Mako glowered. "Not this time!" she snarled, and Moka wasn't able to bite back her sob as a fist's worth of spiked fingers stabbed into the back of her best friend. "I won't let you ruin my plans again! Kill her, Tsukune-kun! Give her the cruelest death you can with your own hands!"

When he wobbled to his feet he flailed, screaming in short, angry huffs as he wavered to and from man and monster. The revelation that he really was trying to fight off more than the Outcast's commands was no less horrifying to Moka than what came next. Bit by bit, his armor distorted, darkening over his entire body into a set of sleekest black still scored with channels of soft sapphire radiance. From his shoulders fell a purple cape inlaid as though with bones, and red eyes nothing like a vampire's shone from within a full helm complete with downturned horns. Where before he had seemed dangerous, now every facet of himself had been tailored to _being_ dangerous.

What Mako hadn't known when she infected Tsukune with her domineering pollutant was that the soul he carried had once experienced domination on a level she could only dream of. It remembered distinctly the Trigger it had been excruciatingly molded into by the Prince of Darkness, and though everything that was and had ever been Tsukune, Vergil, or Nero had fought as hard as they could, there was no fighting something running through his veins as surely as his blood. Her fluid was crude and temporary, but for that short term it was devastatingly effective. Mundus would never have relied on something so transient; he focused on the inside as much as he did the out. It took longer, but it lasted longer too. No matter the time that had passed or the lives lived, Vergil Sparda's soul remembered Nelo Angelo as a puppet, and as a puppet once more it returned to that form.

Moka watched silently as the figure straightened, a nightmarish parody of what he once was. She did nothing as he walked to her, not even struggle. His hand rose, knifelike position made all the more lethal by the living armor he had become; but even as the gauntlet drew back, she was content with giving him one last smile.

"It's okay, Tsukune. I won't run away," she said peacefully. "I'll never be able to apologize enough for...for turning you into this. If I have to die to make up for it, I'm fine with that. Thank you for being my friend; I won't stop being yours even if I'm dead."

Then the demon spoke, doubled tones tortured and slow. **"YoU...wILL...!"**

She didn't close her eyes or anything cliché like that when his hand came down; she owed it to him to see it through to the end. She knew it was too good to be true; there was no way a human could have that much vampire blood pumped into them without side-effects. Granted, she hadn't expected these particular results, but she would own up to them nonetheless.

It felt so slow, the progression of time as her death neared her. His hand was closing in...so close she could feel the surprisingly warm steel just about to pierce her skin. Was she really ready to die? No, not at all. She had so much she wanted to say to him, so much she wanted them to do. She wanted to call him her boyfriend, hear him call _her_ his girlfriend. She wanted to feel what his lips would be like on hers, cherish what they would whisper to each other when good little students should be fast asleep. She wanted romantic schoolgirl fantasies and steamy adult desires and more, and more, and _more!_ She wanted so much it hurt and it was going to end before it even had the chance to start!

**"YoU...WiLL nOt...!"**

Then she felt her rosary's chain rattle...

**"YOU WILL NOT CONTROL ME!"**

...and a shimmering broadsword made entirely of hardened cerulean light appeared and speared him through the chest in the same instant, slamming him down into the floor like a butterfly on display.

To Moka, the sensation was not unlike having her stomach drop through the floor. In fact, she would rather have died than have to witness that. Tears streaked her cheeks, her mouth opened to scream, but her voice caught in her throat when she noticed the hand that nearly killed her was clutching a silver cross.

She didn't know it was possible to love someone as much as she loved him right then. It broke her heart for her last sight of him to be like this. _The rest is up to you, Ura-chan..._

She, at least, could avenge him—and she would, with _extreme_ prejudice.

Silver hair flying, crimson serpentine eyes enraged; when Inner Moka took her proper place in her body the sheer force of her malevolent aura blasted away the human-esque marionettes that had been holding her. She spared a glance to her formally human companion, but had to quickly avert her eyes when she saw the knight of nightmares had since returned to her gentle Tsukune. Laying serenely, as if merely asleep, she could have almost convinced herself it wasn't true. If not for the sword still sticking out of his motionless chest and the growing pool of blood, she might have even succeeded. After finally figuring out her feelings for him, he was lost to her.

Brow tight and fanged teeth grit, she had to compel herself not to add to the tearstains her outer personality had left on her alabaster skin. Normally she wasn't one to stretch out encounters; she was above their enemies in every way and so preferred to finish things with one blow, but the fear on Mako Yakumaru's face at just feeling her power wasn't enough. This Outcast was going to _suffer_.

With speed second only to true teleportation she was behind her ex-nurse, pinning her in place by the arms with her grip alone as she leisurely, almost fondly trailed her lips to her prey's ear.

_**"...Little insect, you are going to beg me for death by the time I'm done with you."**_

Mako retaliated, but the point was made, and the litany of pain began.

And it went on.

And on.

And on.

Unknown to either woman, Tsukune was far from dead. He couldn't even confess to being in pain; no, that had been when he was still under the effects of Mako's fluid. Held captive in his own body, pain was all he knew as the soul of an honorable warrior screamed for _anything_ that would stop him. The moment the Summoned Sword impaled him he had been granted unreserved and unconditional peace. He couldn't believe he had been so stupid. Vergil and Nero had given him a gift scholars the world over would have killed for: knowledge...with all the experience of gaining it. Yes that meant he had to train his body so he could wield the _physical_ properly, but there was a whole other dimension to that knowledge.

Sorcery.

The art of Infernal magic, capable of being used only by Devils and—to a lesser extent—those that had contracted them. Vergil's Summoned Swords weren't just a technique to be used, they were as fundamental as his arms and legs, only a thought away at any given time. Nero had understood that from the very first time he unlocked his true power, and with no prior training whatsoever had used them with impunity from then on. There was also the basic but invaluable feat of simply channeling Infernal energy. Depending on the way it was used, it could do anything from exponentially increasing the damage of weapons, to making a platform of pure magic a devil could jump off of in midair. Even the Trick skill was nothing but a manipulation of Sorcery.

Thanks to a freak accident, these were things Tsukune knew how to do as surely as breathing. Had he used them? No. He had been so focused on what he _couldn't_ do—and what he would need to do _to_ do them—that he had completely overlooked what he _could_ do.

That was unforgivable, and that ended now.

As Mako fell to her knees vomiting blood from the force of Moka's blows, both felt ice water run down their spines when they heard a cough. Each afraid to look, though for different reasons, their heads turned nonetheless to see a body thought dead bend its legs enough to plant its feet. From there he stood, each inch of gravity defied adding yet one more inch of sword into his torso, until the very hilt itself disappeared into his ribcage. With but a brief pause, he tore himself fully upright with a shower of gore trailing behind him, but he didn't falter in the slightest. He _chuckled_.

"Wherever you are, Dante, I bet you're laughing right now," Tsukune murmured with a dry smirk.

Getting run through was nearly a rite of passage to a Sparda, so it was only fitting.

He let his Infernal power suffuse him with a deep sigh, and was honestly surprised he had never noticed how saturated the realm of Youkai Academy was with diluted demonic energy. It made sense, all things considered. What didn't make sense was the power not his resonating with him from his right hand, and he looked down in shock at the sparkling cross he found there. Over the pounding in his ears, he felt more than heard his own gasp.

Moka's rosary.

It was...strange...bordering on a kind of perversion resembling and yet so different from Vergil's corruption into Nelo Angelo...but he could feel in his _bones_ what it was. A Devil Arm.

Moka's rosary was a _Devil Arm!_

Though his vast background of the Infernal had seen a few Devil Arms like it, it's peculiarity even among them could only be attributed to whatever it was that had altered it. He didn't even know it was _possible_ to alter a Devil Arm!

Experimentally, he sent a bit of his magic into the item and was rewarded with...emotion? It was like his world had flipped and someone else was occupying the same space as him. He felt recognition...elation...and...oh.

..._Oh. Oh _Hell.

Nerveless fingers dropped the supposedly holy relic, and when he came back to himself he finally remembered where he was—and what had happened to put him in that position. God, he hadn't just been stupid, he had been _Dante-level_ stupid. Of course, he was willing to admit he didn't have a lot of options at the time, but he could have done _something_ other than _get stabbed with the mind-controlling finger!_

_"Might controls everything, and without strength you can't protect anything, let alone yourself."_

Vergil's words rang in his head. Not only had he failed to protect himself, in doing so he had been used against the very person whom he had been trying to protect.

He put his hands to his chest and soaked them in the blood he had shed for his ignorance, then raised them to his hair. In one smooth motion the limp and disarrayed strands were swiped back, conforming neatly as though only waiting for the opportunity. That naive Tsukune was gone; _he_ was going to be better.

_**"...Tsukune?"**_ Moka finally managed to whisper through her disbelief, and couldn't stop the tears that built up when he nodded to her, chestnut irises already fading into an unreal blue.

Lightning flashed outside the window, and in the brief moment of its illumination the two women watched as Tsukune's image flickered to the glowing demon he had showed them first. When the light faded, they were astonished to see no blood at all on him, nor a single mark on his faded hospital scrubs. That wasn't the only trick he could do when it came to clothes, but now wasn't the time.

Mako shivered when aquamarine eyes fixed on her. They were cold, colder than ice, than the Ice Hell itself the Frosts hailed from, and frozen within their depths was a raging flame of white-hot loathing that made her want to curl up and die lest she be fed to it. As one whom had always controlled the chessboard, it was that reaction that made her rise defiantly to her feet.

Tsukune dispassionately noted by her bearing that she must be in a significant amount of pain, and he could tell why. Moka had clearly done a number on her, but she had stayed away from any incapacitating or lethal areas. She had aimed for soft-tissue, bruising blows, internal injuries that would cause agony with the simple act of staying alive but were treatable with time. No bones were outright broken, and that was unexpected, but from her posture he would imagine a good few of them were cracked. That Moka had went so far for him actually made his chest tighten with emotion, regardless of the circumstances.

But the question remained: was it enough?

"You..." Mako sputtered in rage, uncaring of the bilious plasma still leaking down her chin, "How many times must you humiliate me until you're satisfied?! Die! Die, die, just die already, you monsters!"

_Vergil would have killed her on principle alone._

Five fingers each shot out to her two targets, and Tsukune knew instantly that Moka was just too close and not paying her enough attention to get out of the way in time. Without even moving, he Trick'd to her, grabbed her startled frame and Trick'd again, easily out of the way. It was a simple enough matter to bring someone along for the ride, and as the floor exploded where they had once been, the two were left dangerously—_wondrously_—close.

_Nero would have killed her for her crimes, against him and innocents._

Slit eyes of the most beautiful scarlet simply held the gaze of the one holding her, setting be damned. She had turned him into something inhuman, demonic, but the crystalline eyes looking back held no condemnation. All she saw in them were her dreams reflected, her dreams of a _them_, of her safety like she held his. He didn't look at her any differently than he did Omote. It really was as he said; they really were both important to him.

When the storm roared again, Moka was sure his hair flashed _white_.

_Tsukune couldn't kill her. Not because he wasn't them, but because _they_ were only parts of _him_._

"YOU'RE MINE NOW!" the Outcast screeched as her slithering projectiles came at them from all angles.

While he couldn't kill her, he could never forgive her_._

Mako's screams rang long and loud through the hallways of the hospital annex as she clutched her butchered hands close. Deaf to the other woman's agony, Moka just stared in awe at the countless amount of ghostly swords spinning around them from where she stayed in Tsukune's arms. Identical to the one that had saved her from the black knight, they had appeared without warning and mercilessly cut apart anything trying to breach their line. Mainly, Mako Yakumaru's fingers. Toughened by transformation or not, they were no match for the Summoned Swords.

"You will never control me, or anyone else, _ever_ again," Tsukune declared firmly as he dispelled the phantom blades, though it was unlikely she heard him through her misery. He glanced at Moka then nodded to their foe. "Would you like to do the honors?"

She smirked and inclined her head politely. Long strides quickly brought her to her former nurse, and in a rare act of mercy she only used _slightly_ more than the necessary force to knock her out. _**"As if the likes of you could beat us. Know your place,"**_ she spat.

It might have been redundant, but as it was, the only thing keeping Moka from killing her outright was what Tsukune had done. It _was_ a much more fitting punishment, not to mention something that made her vampiric bloodlust tingle pleasantly. The last thing she expected after that was for Tsukune to kneel down beside her and start wrapping the Outcast's bleeding hands with strips torn off his shirt.

Once done, he simply began tearing more makeshift bandages from the scrubs and handed some to her. His eyes weren't blue anymore, but the expression under his swept-back hair was no less serious. "Come on, Moka-sa...Moka," he amended obligingly as he ran to the nearest body. He had given her his word there would be no more suffixes, but it would take some getting used to. "We need to help the others she hurt here." But the more he looked around, the more his hopes plummeted. "Damn, they're still bleeding; guess it was too much to hope for that the injection mark healed by itself," he hissed derisively. "And of course, double damn, some of those entry wounds look serious. Come on, Moka! Now's not the time to freeze up!"

She jerked out of her surprise at Tsukune taking charge of the situation and hastily went to the victim closest to her. Her attention was divided, however. _**"Tsukune...about what just happened..."**_

He sighed as he finished the best stopgap procedure he knew of and moved on. "I know, believe me I know. I had wanted to talk to you before you saw but, well, I wasn't expecting this to happen. I swear, we'll talk about it later. Right now we need to do as much as we can and hope the staff heard the commotion over here."

Moka had to accept that for the time being.

All told, barely ten minutes had passed over the whole confrontation, but the wait for help to arrive seemed infinitely longer.

.

=I=======

.

Tsukune sat on one of the few unoccupied benches of the ravaged lounge with a blanket draped over his shoulders, head hung low and muscles so tense he was literally shaking. Beside him, Moka was uncharacteristically sympathetic as she stayed in quiet vigil, debating whether or not to hold his hand. Medics littered the area, some attending the wounded...others carrying off covered stretchers.

Fifteen. Fifteen students hardly any younger or older than they were, _dead_. Sixteen if he counted Midou, but as callous as it seemed, he had a hard time caring about the other Outcast after what he had done.

For a petty _grudge_, sixteen journeys that had scarcely begun in life were cruelly cut short. _Sixteen!_ They were in a high school, not a warzone!

He clung desperately to every ounce of composure Vergil had left him, and even that only just stopped him from rushing off to find Mako and finishing the job. Sixteen people were dead because a series of coincidences led to a rumor being started that he was strong, from there another series of coincidences led to 'strong' meaning 'Vampire', and from there escalated into Moka being kidnapped and him actually _becoming_ strong. Because he was strong enough—and in the second case, knowledgeable enough—to protect himself and save Moka, because he _didn't die,_ sixteen people paid the price in what amounted to a child's _temper tantrum!_

It would have been so much easier to accept had it been demons. Demons killed because that was what they lived for; 'Youkai' didn't have that excuse. Some may have retained a modicum of the bloodlust, but even that was more of an instinctual urge than the way of life it was for demons. Mako had made the _decision_ to kill those people, and that made it even more terrible.

A warm hand was set gently over his, and his eyes darted over to see Moka awkwardly shifting around with pink coated on her cheeks. He let loose a long breath and gratefully squeezed her hand, eliciting a blush that much darker on her pale skin. "Thank you," he whispered.

She shook her head. _**"Don't. I should be thanking you, Tsukune. You believed in me when I don't think I'd even believe myself if I was in your position. Omote may have forgotten, but I know you did something. What exactly, I don't know, but...I'm saying this, and it's like I can hear you telling me to fight; that you're there for me. Your voice reached me even in my dreams, Tsukune."**_

He looked down, embarrassed but pleased all the same. "I wasn't about to let anyone else suffer through that, especially you."

Then he lit up like a Christmas tree when he realized how that sounded.

For Moka, it was emboldening. However, something about the way he worded it didn't sit right with her. _**"...Anyone **_**else?**_**"**_ she asked in confusion when it hit her, and Tsukune grimaced.

"That would tie in to what we need to talk about. I don't even know where to start to be honest with you."

_**"Then it can wait a few more seconds."**_

He wanted to ask what she meant by that, but suddenly it occurred to him that she was leaning ever so slowly forward, lips parted. His mouth moved like it had so many times before he was even consciously aware of saying the words. "Moka-san..."

And like so many times before, her lips stopped just short of his. Rather than changing course to his neck, however; it was to smirk. _**"Tsukune, it's Moka. Just Moka."**_

When she kissed him, his mind went blank.

In those moments as their lips met he forgot how to breathe, how to think, and most importantly: how to respond. Luckily her smugness at his reaction outweighed her disappointment at his lack of reciprocation because of it. When her pale pink tongue darted out to moisten her upper lip, tasting what she had taken from him, the rush of arousal that flushed through his system easily knocked him out of his stupor.

"W-What—" he squeaked, then coughed, "what was that?"

Her eyes glittered merrily, like two twinkling rubies. _**"I never did thank you for what you did the other day."**_

He was so glad he had the blanket shrouding him, but he still couldn't help but feel like they had both been cheated. They finally kiss, and he just _sat there_. No, it wasn't enough; it couldn't be enough. "Can I...Can I try again?"

A silver eyebrow rose imperiously. _**"Oho? You would presume tha...?"**_

Words failed her as his hand rose to her face, brushing gently over her cheek until his thumb was resting against the lobe of her ear and his fingers were carefully but insistently pulling her forward.

This time when they kissed, they _kissed_.

It wasn't everything he had ever imagined it would be. He could never have properly imagined the flavor of her skin; would never have thought the lips that looked so plump would be so firm yet so gloriously yielding. The idea that she could shudder the way she did, or moan so sensually as she moved to intensify their entanglement had never crossed his mind. There was no way it could be everything he had ever imagined it would be, because he had never known how limited his imagination was before.

He groaned quietly when they separated, and his eyes only opened again with great reluctance. It was worth the effort. Aglow with embarrassed approval, Moka's intimidating beauty had gained a softness beyond the physical that made his heart ache.

"Please tell me that was more than a thank you," he murmured.

For once the unshakable Vampire seemed troubled, and glanced away. _**"...It could be, if you want it to."**_

He merely squeezed her hand, and when she met his eyes she knew his answer. She also knew whatever had happened to him wasn't done, for the caring brown irises that had always supported her were now littered with specks of starlight, mere hints at the crystal blue she had seen they could become. The unconventional hazel was no less profound. His next kiss was just as tentative as the others; searching, learning how to shift against her, but so full of unexpressed desire that when she responded he took both her breath and her worries away.

_**"Okay then,"**_ she whispered hoarsely.

He smiled. "Okay."

Fangs gleaming, she eyed him hungrily. _**"So...can I have a drink before our talk?"**_

Well, there wasn't any reason to deny her anymore.

_**"Capu chu~"**_

His blood hit her mouth, and she only had an instant to feel a terror like nothing she had ever known. An all-consuming _need_ had gripped her, and in the seconds before she lost herself...she knew she wasn't going to be able to stop.

Between them, a rosario's red jewel flashed erratically through colors.

And darkness took them both.

.

=I=======

.

Tsukune found himself on a forested cliff overlooking an unparalleled view of natural wonders, and apart from the chasm before him, a magnificent mansion loomed grandly in the distance.

_**"Why...why are we here?"**_

Startled, he spun around to find the unsealed version of Moka examining their surroundings with—and here he was brought short—_tears _in her eyes. Wherever they were, it meant something to her, and their location wasn't the only thing that had changed. Instead of the school uniform he had last seen her in, Moka now wore a simple, sleeveless white sundress that clung to her every curve in the slight breeze. The real surprise came when he checked himself.

It was exactly what he had been planning to wear when he could honor Vergil and Nero properly. A plain black undershirt was covered by a thin navy hoodie of quilted leather, secured thrice by small gold buckles that allowed both the top and the bottom of the garment to stay open. Dark trousers led to calf-high leather boots complete with their own straps, and the only ornamentation on the outfit was a snakelike design coiling around the border of his hood and the Order's symbol proudly displayed on his shoulders.

One crucial element had been purposefully left out. Every Sparda had worn some form of longcoat, and while he greatly desired to emulate Vergil's impeccable wardrobe, he just didn't feel like he would do it justice. Until the time came when he could stand tall in the shadow looming over him, he would leave the longcoats to those that came before.

Moka was probably just as shocked by what he was wearing as their presence there in general.

"I doubt Mom ever thought we'd come across another Devil, let alone the heir of a Sparda, Ura-chan."

Somehow unnoticed, the pink-haired version of Moka now stood serenely beside them, looking out towards the mansion far away. Her black dress was distinctly Victorian in design, but more concerning was the wisps of shadowy vapour flowing endlessly through its composition, breaking free every so often only to disappear moments later. She turned to them with a small smile years older than she was, and Tsukune felt an uncomfortable knot form in his stomach.

"Hello, Ura-chan. Hello, Tsukune. We have a lot to talk about."

It looked like he was going to find out how that Devil Arm had been altered sooner rather than later.

...

.

**Author's Notes:** You may be wondering why I decided to post a new chapter of this before Here In My Arms. I blame buying the Devil May Cry re-mastered HD collection. Don't worry, HIMA is still going strong and it will be continued, I just wanted to put this out first.

I put in more DMC history in this chapter for those of you who may not know the games as well, but I also added some of my own changes, such as what I have Nero do after DMC4. I thought it was fitting considering how I've pushed the timeline back.

This chapter was slightly annoying because a few of the larger elements were entirely canon, but Vergil's experience definitely changed some parts and added others. The major deviations from canon begin next chapter, whenever I get around to putting that out. Hopefully after I complete HIMA.

Anyway, I hope you still enjoy reading my writing as much as I enjoy writing it, and feel free to drop a review!


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